


Legacies

by AkozuHeiwa



Series: The Ones Who Stayed 'Verse [3]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Gaylen's Core, Hurt/Comfort, I tried not to list too many characters, I'll add more tags as i go probably - Freeform, Inaccurate Arthurian Lore, M/M, Multi, Science Fiction, Whump, Wizard Steve Palchuk, and also trigger warnings before chapters that need them, im sorry, just for the sake of some don't show up nearly as much as others, post wiz-fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkozuHeiwa/pseuds/AkozuHeiwa
Summary: It's been five years since the world was almost destroyed, and Steve, Toby, Douxie, and Krel are ready for a chill winter vacation. But when Krel gets kidnapped and the others set off on a quest to find and rescue him, the group finds themselves mixed up in a plot to destroy the peaceful galaxy as they know it. Armed with only a vague idea of their enemy's plan, the team must work together in order to face their greatest challenges yet.
Relationships: Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan & Mort Penn | Mordred Pendragon & Krel Tarron, Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan & Toby Domzalski & Steve Palchuk & Krel Tarron, Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan/Alex Swift, Steve Palchuk/Aja Tarron
Series: The Ones Who Stayed 'Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582627
Comments: 59
Kudos: 36





	1. Akiridion Abduction

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually put notes at the beginning, but I'm so glad to see you guys again and start writing!!
> 
> Just a note: don't read this if you haven't read the rest of the series, or at least the first one, or you will be very Confused.

Steve hasn’t seen the quad this packed since the one ill-fated concert two years ago. The icy layer of snow that had been there when they arrived has long since been trampled into mud. Mort is standing as tall as he can, shielding his eyes from the sun and trying to peer over people’s heads. They’re trying to push through the crowd to find Krel, which is harder than expected given he should stick out like a sore thumb with his aura.

“Guys!” he hears Krel’s voice call, just before the twenty-year-old himself pushes through the crowd, holding down his graduation cap with one hand and beaming ear-to-ear. Mort pulls him into a brief hug, looking every bit the proud dad they tease him for being.

“Alright, college grad,” Steve exclaims, yanking the cap off his head. Krel had gotten Claire to help him with decorating it because he didn’t have an artistic bone in his body. He can draw blueprints and that’s about it, and even then he likes to use tech for that. The whole space aesthetic makes a lot of sense knowing he’s from space, but it also makes sense to anyone who knows Krel without knowing his origins.

“Hey!” yelps Krel. “ _Steve_! Give it back!”

Steve passes it to Logan, who holds it up above Krel’s head with a teasing grin. Krel scowls at both of them until Logan shoves the cap back on his head, at which point Krel takes it off and scowls even more.

Aja laughs and ruffles his hair, and he quickly ducks away from her to fix it. “I’m so proud of you, little brother!”

Toby pats Krel on the back. “Congrats, you didn’t blow yourself up before graduating.”

“Came really close,” grumbles Steve. A few of Krel’s experiments and attempts to prove his physics professors wrong have blown up over the years, and it’s best not to talk about the incident in junior year. That one was as much on Steve as it was Krel, though, so Steve supposes he can’t judge.

“Welcome to true adulting,” says Douxie, throwing an arm over Krel’s shoulder. It doesn’t work as well as it used to, now that Douxie’s shorter than the Akiridion even in human form. “What are your plans? Taxes? Rent? Mortgage?”

“Uh-huh, like you’ve ever paid a cent for rent in your life,” scoffs Krel.

“What _are_ your plans?” Aja asks. “Sticking around Arcadia or…?”

The “or coming back to Akiridion-5?” part goes unspoken, but by the way Krel’s smile tightens he heard it anyway. Steve mentally prepares himself to play the mediator, again, like he usually has to when Aja starts asking him to come back.

“I’ll be hearing back from the grad schools I applied to soon,” Krel says. “After that, I’m thinking NASA. Maybe stick around at Area 49b. We’ll see.”

“A worthy goal!” exclaims Varvatos. “The NASA will be lucky to have you!”

“Is that safe?” Aja asks, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes. “You couldn’t tell them you’re an extra-terrestrial.”

“It’s not weird for a _human_ to work at a _human_ organisation,” Krel retorts, the sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

“Alright, people are getting impatient.” Mort holds up his phone. Steve can see a text conversation with his dad on the screen asking about pizza. “Let’s get out of this crowd and back to Arcadia.”

By the time they get back to Arcadia, Dad has already happily ordered pizza and broken out the foldable tables they usually use for holidays and set them up in the gym at the high school, which is cold but less cold than anyone’s backyard would be. They’ll be setting up here for Christmas in like a week, so Dad will probably even leave the tables out after this. Someone – probably Mort – has put on Christmas music in the background, which sparked Dad to break out the Christmas hats and stuff for whoever wanted one.

Their numbers have multiplied now, unhindered by the four non-student guests rule commencement had, and it takes the entirety of the two long tables to fit them. This isn’t even everybody that usually comes to things like holidays.

“We need pizza on Akiridion-5,” says Davaros. That makes sense, because what teenager doesn’t like pizza? Even Akiridion teenagers like pizza. “I’d stay on Earth just for pizza.”

“It’s good,” Zadra says shortly, which from her is a glowing approval. “But not worth staying on Earth for.”

Krel laughs jovially and the bells on the elf hat Douxie made him wear jingle. “But it is very good.”

“Next time you visit, I’ll have to make you my aunt’s famous pizza recipe,” Mrs. Johnson tells her conspiratorially. “Now _that_ is worth moving to Earth for… but I’ll give your moms the recipe.”

Davaros giggles. Zadra sighs and Izita just smiles behind her own slice of pizza.

It’s hard to believe it’s been five years since their last apocalypse. It still feels like yesterday that he was first meeting Aja and Krel, that the world was ending three times over. College always feels so slow during the semester – during finals especially – but, man, has time flown. Steve and Toby only have a semester left before they’ll be graduating too, which is something Steve has been avoiding thinking about since August.

“It’s crazy think you’ll be going to grad school next year,” Eli says from where he’s up grabbing another slice of cheese pizza for his plate. He’s a year behind them, only because of the year he’d spent on Akiridion-5. His moms figured out very quickly that he wasn’t actually studying abroad and didn’t let him jump to senior year with them, which was a shame, but it also means he still has a whole year before thinking about the _future_. He’s lucky. “Remind me where you applied?”

Krel pauses to swallow and hums unsurely. “Uh, MIT. CalTech. Georgia Tech–”

“I’m hoping he goes to CalTech,” says Mort, adjusting his Santa hat and clearly trying to pretend that he’s not salty. He’s been passive-aggressively trying to get Krel to stay close to Arcadia Oaks since he started applying to grad schools, and it’s become a lot less passive since Douxie decided where he’s going.

“You just don’t want him across the country,” Douxie says.

“I’m sorry, I’d like _one_ of my kids nearby,” Mort shoots back. “Since you’re going to Connecticut of all places.”

Douxie laughs at him and snatches a slice of pizza off his uncle’s plate. “You’re the one the who took me to tour the school.”

“I thought actually being there would scare you off,” grumbles Mort.

“You could have applied to MIT,” Mom says, turning in her seat to glare at him. “They have a great astronomy program. You and Krel could have gone together.”

“Mom,” Steve whines, although he’s well-aware she’s still a bit annoyed that he didn’t even try applying. “I told you, I’m taking a gap year. Besides, I don’t even know if I’m _going_ to grad school.”

The disapproval deepens. Dad laughs. “You’ll figure it out, kiddo.”

“Maybe you can work in the shop next year,” says Mort. “I’ll need the extra hands with the boys gone. I never seem to have enough time for the shop anymore. I swear, the people in this town were fine until wizards were public knowledge and then suddenly they have questions every day.”

The integration of magic into normal Arcadian life went pretty smoothly after all the apocalypses, but a lot of that is because of Mort playing ambassador. The magical community pretty much decided right away that obviously, since Mordred was a very powerful and well-known sorcerer, he would make the perfect pseudo-leader and point-of-contact with the government. Steve thought – and still thinks – it makes sense. Mort had once been a prince, even if he was never destined to be king, and he’s proven himself more than capable of being a leader. That doesn’t stop Mort from being frustrated. Douxie had found it hilarious until Mort told him the other day that he was his “successor”.

“Tell me about it,” says Jim, twisting in his chair to face them from the table next to them. He has one of those cheesy reindeer antler headbands perched cheerfully on his head. Toby, beside him in the Hanukkah sweater he’d insisted on changing into, rolls his eyes so dramatically Steve can see it even with his friend’s head turned.

“Oh, hush, you’re doing great with the troll stuff,” he says.

“I let _Bagdwella_ go to _high school_ ,” bemoans Jim. “Tell me that wasn’t a mistake.”

“One mistake is nothing compared to hundreds of successes,” Toby offers.

“ _Bagdwella in high school, Tobes_.”

“Bagdwella was great!” Dad exclaims, because Bagdwella had won them the wrestling tournament and he hadn’t been teaching history like poor Strickler. Learning about the troll side of history was cool but Bagdwella was also very lewd about it and Steve honestly thought Strickler was going to murder her and frame it as an accident more than once.

“Ey, my girl Bagdwella!” Logan adds. “She was a riot.”

“Literally,” mutters Jim sourly. He’s got an ambassador role much like Mort, keeping troll and human relations as friendly as possible and mitigating the disappearance of pet cats. He still deals with threats as they pop up, and the rest of them help, but any threat that’s appeared in the past few years has been incredibly minor compared to all the apocalypses of that one summer.

“How’s Akiridion-5, hun?” asks Mom, shifting in her seat to give Aja a once-over. The downward curve of her lips tells Steve she isn’t happy with how tired Aja looks, and Steve’s not very happy with it either. Ruling an entire planet is a lot of work. He wishes they gave her more time for breaks and self-care and all that stuff they taught them about in college. “You look exhausted. Don’t they ever give you a break?”

“This,” says Aja flatly, “is probably my only break for the next kelton.”

“Aja is an excellent ruler,” says Izita.

“ _Aja_ was never taught how to rule a planet.” Aja pointedly rips off a bite of pizza and chews it for a second before continuing. “They should make – what did you call it, Steve? Car accident classes?”

Steve chokes back a laugh. “Crash courses, babe, they’re called crash courses.”

“Right,” says Aja. “Someone should have made a crash course for ruling a planet.”

Krel awkwardly fiddles with his napkin and doesn’t say anything. Steve knows he still feels bad leaving Aja to deal with Akiridion-5 on her own, but as much as Aja complains about it, she’d never truly ask for Krel to leave the only place he’s ever truly felt at home. Still, Krel has confessed that he wonders how long he should stay on Earth, when Aja is struggling alone. Steve feels a little bad too, although he won’t admit it out loud. Part of his indecision about grad school stems from the fact that he really does want to join Aja on Akiridion-5. That’s not something he’s shared with his parents yet. He’s not sure he’s ready to leave Earth, but, then, he’s not sure he’ll ever be.

“To be a leader is a heavy burden,” Blinky says, speaking loudly enough they can hear him over Toby and Jim still bickering about Bagdwella and Claire shushing them. “I believe you have done the best you can and that is all anyone can ever ask of you.”

Mom takes two of Aja’s hands and squeezes them with a warm smile. Aja is probably one of Mom’s favourite people ever, which Steve supposes is lucky, but Aja also adores Mom and it means they team up against him a lot.

“We should do something fun after Christmas,” Douxie says.

Krel’s face lights up. “We should go camping. Mrs. Johnson–”

“How many times have I told you to call me Caitlyn, dear?” says Mrs. Johnson, who has told them all this at least twice a week for years, but Mom was nothing if not very insistent on manners when Steve was a kid and Krel picked that up from Steve. “And I’ll text my brother to let him know. I’m sure you kids can use the cabin.”

“Count me in,” says Steve.

“Dude, same,” Toby adds. “Jimbo? Claire?”

“Wish we could, but my parents decided we’re going to visit a couple of the nearby grad schools I applied to,” says Claire. Jim nods, which means he’s being dragged along for the Nuñez family road-trip.

“Text Alex,” says Krel.

“No, he’s doing that internship in San Francisco, he’ll only be back for Christmas and then right back to it,” Douxie says.

“Aja? Eli? Logan?” Steve says hopefully.

“Going to my grandparents’,” says Eli. Logan says something through his pizza that Steve roughly translates as, “Yeah, grandparents.”

“I was lucky to get today off,” Aja points out.

“Just us then,” says Toby. At Mort’s offended look – no doubt he was planning to tag along to protect them from threats that don’t exist anymore – Toby holds up a hand. “Nope, this is a strictly no parent camping trip, and considering you’re one of the biggest parents I have _ever_ seen, you’re not invited.”

“But–”

“Oh, leave them be, Mort,” says Mrs. Johnson amusedly. “That cabin is in the middle of nowhere, they can’t get in _that_ much trouble.”

“Krel and Douxie could get in trouble in a padded room,” Mort grumbles.

Mort’s not _wrong_ , per se, but Steve likes to think that he and Toby can balance out Krel and Douxie’s tendency for chaos. Maybe. Steve didn’t do a great job of balancing out Krel in college, but at least Krel wouldn’t have any professors to spite while camping.

“Relax, Uncle Mort, it’s just a couple of days,” says Krel brightly.

Mort mutters something else under his breath – probably about Krel and Douxie’s ability to hurt themselves or something – but he’s outnumbered by all the other parents and guardians in the room who are perfectly fine with their _adult_ children going on a camping trip. Mort’s overprotectiveness knows no bounds.

“I’ll have to make you some cookies for the trip,” says Nana, who insists that all of them consider her a grandmother and not just Toby. Not that Steve’s complaining. Nana is great and she knits the best sweaters and she’d be totally down to hide a body if they needed to.

“That’d be great, Nana,” says Toby, before his attention is drawn to Jim trying to inconspicuously shove a torn piece of cardboard in his mouth. “Are you eating the pizza box _again_?”

“It’s environmentally friendly,” Jim says through a mouthful of pizza box.

“You’re not even in troll form right now!”

“It tastes like pizza!”

“Does tastes like pizza,” Aaarrrgghh!!! agrees, sliding an entire empty pizza box into his mouth. He tears off the lid of another and passes it to Jim. “Growing boy.”

Toby throws up his hands. “I give up.”

“You say that every other week and you’ve yet to give up,” Claire points out.

“I didn’t judge you when you made that unholy concoction out of every soda in the dining hall,” mumbles Jim.

“You dared me to do it!”

“It does taste like pizza,” says Krel in awe. Steve has to do a double-take when he realises his dumbass little brother has _also_ taken a bite of cardboard. Douxie almost falls out of his chair laughing.

Mort snatches it out of his hand. “Give me that! You’re going to get sick!”

Man, Steve loves his extended family and friends. Where else will he find a bunch of people willing to eat pizza boxes for no reason other than it possibly tasting like pizza? Well, maybe Logan’s frat, especially judging by the way Logan is now eyeing the cardboard. Even after years of peace, Steve is struck again by how much he appreciates the safety it brings. Arcadia is safe, Earth is safe, and, most importantly, Steve’s family and friends are safe from everything but self-inflicted indigestion, and Steve couldn’t ask for a better life.

They head to the cabin a few days after Christmas, early enough they can stay for a week without worrying about packing to go back to school. Steve pulls up in the driveway just as Mort’s finishing up his lecture to Krel and Douxie. He can’t hear what the older wizard is saying, but he knows it’s about staying safe by the way Douxie is rolling his eyes and they’re both repeating, “Yes, Uncle Mort.”

“Should we go save them?” asks Toby, who had carpooled with him using the same environmentally friendly excuse Jim had used for eating the pizza boxes. Steve didn’t mind. The cabin was a solid half-hour drive, so the company was more than welcome.

“Probably,” he agrees. They climb out of the car and grab the grocery bags of food they’d brought for the week. Mort waves to them as they walk over.

“Keep an eye on them,” he says.

“I’m the oldest!” protests Douxie.

“ _Really_?” says Krel. “We’re adults. No one is in charge.”

Mort gives an exasperated sigh, the kind he gives so often they’ve all started calling it the Mort Sigh. It’s usually aimed at Krel or Douxie. “Just don’t be stupid. For _once_ , don’t be stupid.”

Both Krel and Douxie look affronted by this. Given Krel’s propensity to experiment with tech and Douxie’s propensity to experiment with magic, “don’t be stupid” is good advice that they absolutely won’t follow.

“Don’t worry, Mort, we’ll make sure they don’t blow up half the woods,” says Toby.

Mort nods. “Remember, call General Costas first if anything happens. He’s closest. Call me right afterwards, or preferably at the same time.”

“We _know_ , Uncle Mort,” says Douxie. “Don’t you have ambassadoring to do or something?”

“ _You_ were an English major?” Krel mutters with a teasing grin. Douxie elbows him.

“Be safe,” says Mort. “Love you. See you in a week.”

“Love you, too,” Krel and Douxie chorus.

Mort rolls up his window and drives off. Steve fishes the key to the cabin out of his pocket and unlocks the door. They’ve been several times over the past few years, but it still continues to feel weird to Steve to flip on the lights and not see Seamus making himself at home in his uncle’s cabin. The pain is a lot duller now. He’s glad Krel never got the chance to visit with Seamus, because he’s not sure Krel would have ever come back in that case. Logan doesn’t. He never outright says he doesn’t want to come, but he always has an excuse not to. Steve doesn’t blame him.

Krel shrugs off his coat and hangs it up; the rest of them do the same. Steve kicks off his boots and makes his way to the kitchen to start putting away the food. Douxie joins him a second later.

“No Archie?” Steve asks.

“Apparently, he has better things to do then spend time with a bunch of ‘idiots in a cabin in the middle of nowhere’,” says Douxie. “I think he just wants to sleep. I also think Mort bribed him to stay so he can make sure I’ve not gotten myself killed or something.”

“We should go ice-skating,” says Krel.

“We should absolutely not,” says Steve. Admittedly, he’s terrible at ice-skating and usually ends up falling on his ass, but it’s also a recipe for potential disaster when Krel is involved. “There’s no way the ice is safe yet.”

“What’s the point of magic if you don’t use it?” Toby points out.

“Didn’t bring skates,” Steve says.

Krel tugs off one of his boots and a smooth motion of his hand creates a blade on the bottom of it. Steve raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Krel lets the blade disappear but still tugs off his other boot.

Douxie holds up a can of green beans with an expression that can only be described as petulant. “Did you pack anything junk food or is it all greens and stuff?”

“Next bag should be junk food,” says Toby from where he’s started putting things away in the fridge. “We can go ice-skating tomorrow morning. It’s already late.”

Douxie tosses a box of mac and cheese onto the stove and continues helping Steve put away the rest of the food. “One of you make that, then. I’ve been banned from using the stove.”

“What did you do that got Mort to ban you from using the stove?” Steve asks.

“Oh, no, this was Alex,” says Douxie.

“He about burned down their apartment trying to boil water.” Krel crouches and rummages through the oven drawer to find a suitable pot. “It’s the microwave he got banned from at home. That wasn’t his fault, though.”

“Yeah, it was yours,” Douxie says. That’s not remotely surprising. “The water was on me. The microwave was not.”

Steve gives his fellow wizard an incredulous look. “How did you mess up boiling water that badly?”

“Tried to speed it up with magic. Didn’t work. Caught fire. Water-proof fire.”

“I have a lot of concerns about the concept of water-proof fire,” says Toby, “but we’re not going to go there and we’re not going to let you near the stove.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair,” Douxie mumbles.

Steve closes the food cabinet and reaches to the cabinet above the counter to find the strainer they’re going to need later. Krel glances at him as he places it in the sink. “Not a coffee filter this time?”

“Shut up, I was tired and it was once.” For good measure, Steve turns on the water and angles the sprayer at Krel, who squawks and throws up a shield. Steve barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, it’s just water, dude.”

“Jerk,” Krel grumbles. He lets the shield fall and Steve uses the opportunity to spray him again. Krel flips him off, which is both expected and still hilarious.

“Why do I feel like Uncle Mort is going to make both of us get real jobs now that you’ve graduated too?” Douxie’s expression shows exactly how little he wants to get a “real job” outside of the shop, and Steve doesn’t think he has to worry much about that. They all know Mort wants Douxie to take over the shop one day.

“Excuse you, _I_ already have a real job,” Krel shoots back. “General Costas is letting me expand my internship to full-time until I go to grad school, and even then he said he’ll keep me on as a field agent.”

“I literally can’t get over the fact that _you_ work for Area 49b,” says Toby.

“Now that they don’t experiment on extra-terrestrial life beings, it’s really an interesting place to work,” says Krel. “Earth might even be ready for interstellar travel within the next few decades.”

“Didn’t you say there’s an intergalactic law against helping us do that?” asks Steve.

“I’m a loophole,” Krel says with a grin. “Well, me and Gaylen. Since Gaylen came from Earth, and my core integrated with Gaylen’s core so I’m officially counted as Earthen, Earth is registered as a planet capable of interstellar travel already. Also, I’m technically Earthen. It’s not against the law for me to help my own planet achieve interstellar travel.”

“He does have a point,” says Toby. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t already had contact with extra-terrestrial life.”

“Just making sure Krel won’t get arrested by the space cops or something,” says Steve.

Krel laughs. “They could try.”

“Loopholes are great,” says Douxie. “I’ve been exploiting loopholes since I was a kid. Or trying to anyway. Uncle Mort is really, really good at wording things so there aren’t loopholes.”

“Scarily good,” says Krel. “He covers all his bases. It’s like he knows we’re going to try something.”

“It’s you,” says Steve. “Of course you’re going to try something.”

“You have so little faith in us,” says Krel.

Toby laughs and rips open the box of mac and cheese. He sets the cheese packet on the counter and pours the noodles in the pot. “Spoon?”

Krel pulls open the drawer and makes a face. “Will a spatula work?”

Toby sighs. “Give it here. How do we always forget this place doesn’t have a spoon for making pasta? We _always_ make pasta.”

“I did bring hamburgers this time,” says Steve. “And tongs for the grill.”

“How hard is it to remember a spoon?” Toby snatches the spatula from Krel and grudgingly uses it to stir the noodles. “No one tell Jim about this. He might have an actual heart attack. Or he’ll fight me. Who let Mort teach him about knight duels?”

“It wasn’t me,” says Douxie. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “I’m the one Jim challenged to a knight duel.”

“I told you he’d thought you were flirting with Claire,” says Toby.

“He knew by then I was, one, super gay, and two, dating Alex!” Douxie protests.

“Yeah, and you were both drunk,” Krel says. “The sad part is Mort was more disappointed in you for _losing_ the duel than for either drinking underage or getting into in the duel first place.”

“I let him win,” Douxie grumbles. “Didn’t want to fight for Claire’s hand anyway.”

“We know, because as soon as you found out you were fighting for Claire’s hand and not Alex’s you stopped trying,” says Steve. It had actually been hilarious. He knows from Toby that Jim had gotten scolded by his mom for the alcohol part, but Krel’s right that Mort didn’t give a damn about that. He was a bit affronted that Douxie almost purposefully lost and according to Krel, he spent a solid hour lecturing Douxie about how “Camelot may not exist anymore but you are still its prince and you should not enter fights you don’t plan to win”. Steve really wishes he’d been there for that.

“How long do we boil these?” asks Toby.

“You’ve made mac and cheese how many times?” says Krel, but he still grabs the box out of the otherwise empty trash can and peers at it. “Seven to eight minutes? I dunno, until they aren’t hard anymore.”

“Al dente,” says Douxie.

“But don’t make them mushy,” says Krel.

“I don’t know the Italian word for mushy noodles,” says Douxie.

“Alright, Goldilocks, I’ll get your noodles right,” says Toby. He tries to scoops some out, which goes about as well as expected. “That’s it, someone get me a metal spoon.”

“Why didn’t you just use this from the start?” Steve says sceptically, pulling out one of the larger metal spoons from the silverware drawer and passing it to Toby. That’s what he usually does, anyway. It’s easiest to just use the spoon he’s going to eat with while he’s making it, especially when he’s not sharing.

“It’ll scratch the pot,” says Toby.

“It’s Jim’s influence,” says Krel. He pauses and a worrying grin crosses his face. Douxie shoots him a warning glare, which he of course ignores. “Jimfluence.”

“Dude,” groans Steve. Toby uses the spoon to throw a noodle at him, which he totally deserves and by the look on his face he’s well aware he deserves it. _Jimfluence_. Why is he friends with Krel, again?

“You’ve made some pretty bad puns, but that is one of your worst,” says Douxie.

Krel laughs delightedly, as usual taking glee in their outrage. He looks like he’s about to say something else – another terrible joke, most likely, because he has that expression that means Steve needs something to throw at him – when his smile abruptly smalls and his brow furrows.

“Do you smell that?” he asks unsurely.

“Smell what?” says Steve. He sniffs the air and frowns. There is a distinct something, sweet and sour like candy but acrid like smoke, that Steve doesn’t recognise. “Toby, did you burn the noodles?”

“No!” Toby exclaims, but he looks just as concerned. He lifts up the pot as if to double-check, then turns off the stove just in case. Steve’s vision blurs, which is, he realises, the second warning sign. Krel blinks slowly, like when he’s really tired after an all-nighter or two. Douxie stumbles and clutches the counter.

“Guys,” he says. “Something’s wrong.”

Steve has a few moments to groggily think, _no shit_ , before the world distorts and fades into darkness.

When Steve comes to, the first thing he wonders is exactly what he drank to get him this hungover. He’s pretty sure they didn’t bring any harder alcohol, only beers and that weird fruity seltzer stuff Krel prefers, but he really shouldn’t have this bad of a headache from a few beers.

He pushes himself to a sitting position on the kitchen floor, which is just as weird as the unexplainable hangover. Why is he on the floor? It takes a few more moments, during which he hears Douxie also groggily sitting up, for everything else to come flooding back.

They’d been making dinner. Krel had noticed a weird smell and – they all passed out. He realises with startling clarity that the weird smell must have been some sort of knockout gas. They were drugged.

“Everyone okay?” he checks. The words make his head pound. His vision is still spinning. There’s a disoriented groan from his right – Douxie – and a muffled affirmation from closer to the stove – Toby – then heart-stopping, dread-inducing silence.

“Krel?” says Douxie, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “Krel! Answer me!”

Steve tries to force his vision into steadying. At first, he sees no sign of Krel, but also no signs of a struggle. But if Krel was as unconscious as the rest of them, and it’s Krel so he must have been, there wouldn’t have been a struggle.

“Krel!” Toby calls, holding his head and pulling himself to his feet.

“He’s gone,” Steve says numbly. “We were drugged. Krel’s _gone_.”

There’s a logical explanation. It’s the only logical conclusion, because Krel doesn’t have the ability to simply vanish into mid-air and he’d never leave of his own will while the rest of them lay unconscious on the floor, but his heart still drops into his stomach. It doesn’t make sense. Steve doesn’t understand. Everything was fine.

“Someone took him,” Douxie breathes in horror, eyes wide, all traces of sleepiness vanished with his panic. “Someone took Krel.”


	2. Grand Theft Astro

Toby has been waiting for the other shoe to drop for five years, so he shouldn’t even be surprised that Krel’s been kidnapped. And of course it’s Krel, because it always is. He’s still trying to shake off the drug-induced drowsiness and headache. Steve sits on the floor against the cabinets, face buried in his hands. Douxie paces on the other side of the bar, magic sparking faintly off his skin with his anxiety.

“Do you think it was a human?” asks Toby finally.

“There’s enough residual aura on all of us that I can tell whoever it was wasn’t human,” says Steve. “Not a troll either. Nothing I recognise.”

“Great, so an extra-terrestrial?” says Douxie.

Steve nods stiffly. “Most likely.”

“Bounty hunters?” Toby guesses.

“The bounty was taken down years ago and we haven’t had any issues since senior year of high school,” Steve points out. “Maybe the formstone again?”

“What would an extra-terrestrial want with Earth’s formstone specifically?” says Douxie. “No, it’s got to be Gaylen’s core. Someone wants to use Krel’s powers.”

Toby was afraid of that. It’s the most logical conclusion but also potentially the worst one. On the upside, there’s no way Krel would help them willingly and they hadn’t taken the rest of them, so they had no leverage. On the downside, there’s a good chance Krel will end up getting himself hurt or killed. So. That’s not good.

“Okay,” says Steve. “Okay, we can handle this. It’s not the first time Krel’s been kidnapped. Douxie, you call Mort and then we’ll–”

“What if we don’t do that?” Douxie says. They both turn to him. Steve’s eyebrows have shot as far up as they can go. Douxie shrinks. “It’s just – Uncle Mort will overreact.”

“Over – Douxie, this is an overreacting situation!” Steve runs both hands through his hair. “Overreacting is just reacting!”

“You know how he gets,” Douxie says. “Listen, I have a plan. We can rescue Krel and be back before anyone would even notice we’re gone!”

“How exactly are we going to do that?” Toby asks sceptically.

Douxie makes a sweeping motion with his hands, as if laying out a map or something. “Okay, so I’m not supposed to even know this, so you didn’t hear it from me if Krel didn’t tell you, but he’s been working on a spaceship at Area 49b. One that’s fit for deep-space travel.”

Steve crosses his arms. “So we’re going to go talk to General Costas and ask if they’ll let us borrow their top-secret spaceship to go rescue Krel.”

“Well,” says Douxie awkwardly. Oh, they’re absolutely not going to like whatever he’s going to say next. “I was maybe sort of thinking we borrow the ship _without_ telling anyone. Ask forgiveness, not permission. All that.”

“Absolutely not,” says Steve.

“Oh, come on! If we tell Uncle Mort he’s going to tell Aja and then she’ll be mad at you.” That’s a low blow, and Toby is sure Douxie knows it’s a low blow. Steve falters. Douxie isn’t wrong, exactly, and the more time they spend telling Mort and Aja and dealing with that, the longer Krel is with whoever took him and the more danger he’s in. Still, not telling Mort and Aja sounds like the worst possible idea, given what happened the last time they hid things from Aja.

“This is your worst possible idea,” Steve says.

“But you’re in.”

Steve throws up his hands. “Yes! Fine! I’m in. But if this backfires I’m blaming you.”

“And it will backfire,” Toby warns. “But alright. I guess I’ve always wanted to pull off a heist.”

“It’s not a heist,” Douxie says. “We’re just borrowing the ship that _Krel_ is building. That’s – that’s perfectly legal.”

Toby raises an eyebrow. “It’s really not.”

“And we’ll return it when we’re done. Perfectly legal.”

“Still stealing.”

“Borrowing.”

“Stealing from the government, no less.”

“ _Borrowing_ from the government. It’s like a loan.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” says Steve. “Is building? As in, isn’t built yet? As in, we don’t know if this ship is even functional?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s functional,” Douxie says.

“Has Krel told you it’s functional?” Steve asks.

“Well, no,” admits Douxie. “But I’m sure it is. It’ll be fine. We’ve totally got this. No one will even know we’re gone.”

Steve and Toby exchange wary looks. Their luck is not that good. There’s no way they’ll be able to find and rescue Krel in less than a week with a ship that may not even work and the entire galaxy as their search radius.

“Pack your bags!” Douxie exclaims, as if any of them had had the chance to unpack before they’d been drugged and Krel had been kidnapped. “We’re going on a field trip!”

“He’s going to be insufferable until we find Krel, isn’t he?” mumbles Toby.

Steve nods mournfully. “He’s going to be a mini-Mort. And it’s going to be awful.”

They take Steve’s car and drive to Area 49b. Douxie makes them park in the woods, much to Steve’s chagrin. If they hadn’t talked him out of it, Douxie would have had them dressed like bank robbers for his not-a-heist. There are so many ways this could go horribly wrong that Toby doesn’t even want to start thinking about them.

“Okay, we need a plan,” says Douxie. “This is a high-security government facility. They’re going to have guards and booby traps and security cameras everywhere, so we have to be careful.”

“It can’t be that hard,” says Toby. “Krel managed, didn’t he?”

“Aja said when they broke in Krel got knocked out,” Steve says.

“Well, that’s like every Tuesday for Krel,” reasons Toby. “Did she tell you anything about security?”

“She did not,” says Steve. “At least nothing we don’t already know. They have neurometers and other weapons, and we know their weapons have gotten better. We also know they’re significantly less hostile, and I’m not convinced we couldn’t walk in there completely undisguised and not be welcomed with open arms.”

“We need to try to stay unseen,” says Douxie, even though Steve’s probably right. It’s not as if the people that work there don’t know them. “Luckily, I know all of Krel’s codes. He uses either one of our birthdays or Aja’s. He’s really not good at this.”

“If we succeed we’ll have done what no one on the internet managed back in 2019,” muses Toby.

“Including Krel,” mutters Steve.

“What?”

“Oh, did you not hear about that?” Steve shakes his head and laughs. “Krel thought it was funny, especially because they had the wrong government facility, so he tried to rally the physics department to join in that whole mess.”

“Guys, focus,” says Douxie.

“Are you or are you not both wizards?” Toby says. Douxie and Steve both blink at him, as if this is a dumb question and they don’t know why he’s asking it. He sighs. “Are there not _spells_ to turn us _invisible_?”

“Oh,” they both say.

Toby rolls his eyes. “Seriously, you two can be dumb sometimes.”

“Uncle Mort encourages me to solve problems without magic if I can,” says Douxie. “He says it doesn’t do to be too reliant on magic.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure Mort would also say it doesn’t do to steal a spaceship, and here we are,” Toby retorts. “Just cast the spell, one of you. The quicker we get in and out, the less chance this will go terribly wrong.”

Steve traces a golden rune into the air and spreads his arms. It doesn’t look like anything has happened, but Toby feels a chill that might have been the wind if it weren’t for the perfectly still leaves above them.

“We’re invisible, but they’ll still be able to hear us,” Steve cautions.

“Right,” says Toby. “How long can you keep this up?”

“As long as I have to,” says Steve.

Toby nods, then gestures for them to follow him. It’s surprisingly easy to fall back into the whole sneaking around thing even when the most sneaking around he’s done in the past several years was to get past RAs after a party or the rare occasion when troll problems showed up on campus. The leaves and snow crunch under their feet as they approach, which is unfortunate, but there’s no one guarding the side wall they approach. Toby pulls out his war-hammer and gestures for Steve to carry Douxie over the wall. The annoyed look on Douxie’s face as he’s picked up is hilarious.

“Do you know where the hangar is?” Steve asks in a low voice.

Douxie nods and takes the lead. Toby’s only been here a few times since it became not evil, usually to visit Krel or smuggle him snacks. The place hasn’t changed all that much, although at Krel’s insistence the hazmat suits are now saved for when they’re dealing with unknown entities or known dangerous ones. Krel claimed it was because the suits inspired “fear and distrust”, which was arguably true, but the real reason was that they’d made Krel wear one all of once and he decided he hated it.

Toby’s incredibly glad for the invisibility spell. They’re able to just walk past a ton of employees in broad daylight without any worries. The concrete has been largely cleared of yesterday’s – the day before yesterday’s? – snow, so they don’t leave any footprints. Toby has a feeling General Costas will know exactly who “borrowed” the ship, although he might suspect Krel was also involved. Mort’s going to know they’re gone whether they get back within the week or not.

Douxie glances around to make sure no one is nearby before punching a code in the keypad by a door. It must be the right code, because the door slides open and they’re able to walk inside. Douxie gestures to the right and they follow him down the corridor. He types a code in another door, which opens to reveal what must be the spaceship Krel is building. It looks complete, at least. One more code – well, two more codes because Douxie gets it wrong the first time – gets them into the spaceship itself. It’s dark inside, but they don’t dare turn on any lights before they reach the cockpit.

“This is so cool,” breathes Toby, running a hand along the dashboard. Douxie inputs another code and the cockpit comes to life, holographic screens popping up and buttons and sliders lighting up in shades of blue and green.

“Anyone know how to fly this thing?” asks Steve. “Or, uh, most importantly, how to get out of the _closed_ hangar?”

“There should be a button,” mumbles Douxie. He presses one at random and the engine roars. Douxie’s eyes widen. “Um, okay, maybe not that button.”

Steve has started searching the screens for information, anxiety evident in the way his left hand is tapping his thigh. “Right, there’s – instructions here – uh, here we go! Toby, that big button there should open the hangar.”

Toby nods and presses the button. Sure enough, the hangar door begins to open above them. Also, alarms blare, which is definitely not good news. The hangar is going to be swarming with Area 49b employees any minute now.

“Okay, we’re out of time!” Toby exclaims. “T-minus zero, let’s go people!”

Steve sits in the pilot chair and stretches. “Buckle your seatbelts, guys, this is going to be a bumpy ride.”

Douxie and Toby glance at each other and quickly sit in two of the other seats in the cockpit and strap in. Toby’s suddenly having a lot of doubts. Do they need spacesuits? None of them know how to fly a spaceship. What, exactly, is their plan when they find Krel? How, exactly, are they planning to find Krel?

Steve grasps the controls with white-knuckles. He grins, uneasiness in his eyes but tentative confidence in his posture. “Who’s ready to go to space?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead swiping something on one of the holographic screens and pressing a button. The engines rev and the ship tilts. Toby grips the armrests of his seat tightly, heart racing like at the beginning of a rollercoaster, just before the drop. Douxie’s eyes are blown wide.

“I didn’t think this through,” he blurts.

“Too late now.” Steve thrusts the controls forward. The roar of the ship stops any of them from voicing any more concerns. Toby holds his breath as they lift off the ground, slowly but surely gaining momentum. Well, there’s definitely no going back now. The sky changes, slowly, from the beautiful blue Toby has always known to the darkness of night time. The stars are so much clearer from up here, unobstructed by clouds and light pollution and atmosphere. Toby is plastered to the back of his seat, like in one of those spinning rides at the fair. Wow, this is a lot like being at an amusement park, except with ten times more chances to die.

After another few moments, Steve reaches out to the screen again. A robotic female voice cheerfully says, “Artificial gravity activated. Please remain seated for an adjustment period.”

Steve turns his chair to face them. Douxie still looks downright petrified. Toby’s heart is still racing.

“We’re in orbit,” he says. “We’re going to have to leave orbit soon but I figured it might be easiest to find Krel first so we know where we’re going.”

“I’m impressed with your spaceship piloting skills,” manages Toby.

“Aja and Krel have taught me a thing or two,” admits Steve.

“This was a mistake,” says Douxie. “Why didn’t either of you stop me? Oh my god, we’re in _space_.”

“It was your idea, now live with it,” says Toby. There’s a musical ding. “What was that?”

“I think we’re good to walk around,” says Steve. He unstraps himself and stands. Toby, after a moment, does the same. He stumbles, first, legs shaky because he’s just been launched into _space_.

He makes his way to the window. The sight of Earth far below them takes his breath away. He’s been on Akiridion-5 plenty of times, but that’s different. They’ve only ever travelled by wormhole, so it was practically like walking next-door. Now, the only thing between him and the cold, deep emptiness of the universe is a bunch of metal and wires and who-knows-what. To see Earth, shockingly small and oh-so-far away, is both humbling and terrifying.

“It’s so beautiful,” murmurs Steve. His eyes look alarmingly bright.

“You okay?” Toby asks.

Steve shakes his head with a smile. “Yep. Never imagined I’d see Earth like this.”

“Me neither,” admits Toby. He glances back to Douxie, still plastered to his seat and staring forward with wide eyes. Huh, he really expected Douxie to love this whole being in space thing. “Dude, you gotta come see this.”

“Nope,” squeaks Douxie. “I’m good.”

Steve shrugs and the two of them walk back over. They have time, now. There’s no one that can be sent after them that can get here quickly. Steve sits and starts pulling up information on the screens.

“I’m not sure if Krel installed core tracking in the systems or not,” he says. “Doux, any idea?”

“None,” admits Douxie, voice still tight.

“I’m not seeing anything,” mumbles Steve. “Wait! Okay, okay, this might work. It’s for tracking energy signals in general but that should work. If we pair this with a strong enough spell – you up for casting?”

Douxie nods stiffly.

“You might want to stand up,” Steve says.

“Oh. Right.” Douxie hesitantly unstraps himself and pushes himself to his feet. He really didn’t think this through, did he? Toby hopes he adjusts to this fairly quickly or it’s going to make all of their lives very difficult. “Okay, strongest tracking spell I know is a spoken one.”

“Alright, walk me through pronunciation and we’ll give it a shot,” says Steve.

Toby wanders back over to the window as Douxie says something slowly in another language. Clouds swirl across most of North America, but Toby can also make out greens and browns and blues beneath them. What he can see of Canada is covered in snow. He knows beneath the clouds there’s even more snow, not a constant streak of white but still dipping as far south as Arcadia at the least. He takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures of his home.

“Alright, it worked!” he hears Steve cheer. Toby pockets his phone and walks back to his friends.

“You found him?” he asks.

Steve winces. “Well, no, but we got the spell connected with the software. Give it a few minutes and we should have a lock on Krel’s location. It’s hard to miss him. Then, all we have to do is wormhole to him, get him back from whoever took him, and wormhole back here.”

“Krel _did_ include wormholes, right?” Toby says.

“Uh, let me double-check,” says Steve.

While he does that, Toby places a hand on a still-pale Douxie’s shoulder. “Doing alright, Douxie?”

“Yep,” Douxie manages.

“The dangerous part of launching ourselves into space is pretty much over,” says Toby. “And we’ll have Krel on the way back, so that should go smoother.”

“Uncle Mort is going to kill me,” says Douxie.

“We did warn you.”

“Why didn’t you _stop_ me!?”

“Relax, Douxie,” says Toby. “We’re here now. Steve apparently knows how to pilot this thing, so I think we’ll be fine.”

“Wormhole tech is included,” says Steve, clapping his hands together in a very Coach-ish fashion. “Let’s see if we’ve got any hits for Krel yet… huh.”

“Huh?” repeats Douxie.

“Nothing yet.” Steve’s brow furrows. “The search radius is huge. Maybe it will take a bit longer.”

“Right,” says Toby. “In the meantime, maybe we should see what kind of provisions are on here?”

Douxie’s face goes slack with horror. “Oh my god, we forgot food. There wouldn’t be any food on here. We forgot food.”

“Calm down,” says Steve. “We’ll be leaving orbit soon. We can make a pitstop. I have crestons in my backpack so we can buy food and stuff.”

“Thank goodness for Krel always insisting we carry crestons just in case,” Toby says. He’s got crestons in his backpack too, and he bets Douxie does as well. It had always seemed a bit paranoid of Krel – bounty hunters barely bother him anymore and the risk of _them_ getting stranded somewhere they need crestons is crazy low – but now he’s thankful. None of them had thought this through – not Douxie with the original idea and not Steve or Toby in following him. The lack of a plan leaves Toby uneasy. The last time anything like this had happened was during the whole Merlin-formstone mess, and back then every time they didn’t have a plan, things went horribly wrong.

There’s another musical ding, followed by the same robotic female voice: “Search complete. No entities found.”

Toby’s heart drops. He meets the others’ eyes. It can’t be a good sign that they didn’t find _anything_.

“We must be out of range,” Steve says shakily. “We’ll have to try again when we’re farther from Earth. Who knows how far they’ve gotten?”

“Yeah,” says Douxie.

Toby nods and tells himself that that’s what it is. They’re out of range. The alternative – Toby can’t let himself think about the alternative yet. “Find an outpost or something where we can buy provisions.”

“On it,” says Steve. “Get comfortable. I doubt it’s close.”

Toby sinks into his chair with dread in his stomach. Douxie doesn’t look much better, face stricken and shoulders tense. They’re out of range. They’ll be in range soon. They _will_ find Krel.

They have to.

Space travel is smoother than Toby expected. The ship is more comfortable than a plane. Thanks to whatever upgrades Krel has made to their phones, they can still text people back home. This does, however, mean that Toby has several texts from Mort, ranging from “please tell you weren’t the ones that took the spaceship from Area 49b” to “I know you took the ship, one of you answer your phones”. Douxie has death-glared them into not answering the several calls they’ve all gotten from Mort.

“Alright, I’m bored,” says Toby. He stands, and when he finds it’s perfectly easy to walk around, he stretches and pockets his phone. “I’m going to look around. Call me if you need me.”

“Sounds good,” says Steve, still focused on the controls, which is probably for the best. Douxie gives him a tense thumbs-up, and Toby leaves the cockpit. The ship isn’t particularly large, smaller than the Mothership is. He finds what seems to be sleeping quarters with two bunk beds. He tentatively sits on one of the bottom bunks. It’s not the most comfortable bed out there, but it’s no worse than the ones in the dorms.

He pulls out his phone again and dials Jim. It only takes a few moments before his best friend picks up.

“Tobes?” There’s a note of relief to Jim’s voice. “Dude, what’s going on? Someone stole a spaceship from Area 49b and Mort’s convinced it was you guys, but I told him you’d never steal a spaceship.”

Toby winces. “Funny story.”

“You didn’t.”

“Not alone,” Toby hedges.

“Toby!”

“It was Douxie’s idea,” says Toby. “Not telling Mort was also Douxie’s idea. But, uh, yep, we’re in space right now. I’ll text you pics. Earth looks so cool.”

“Holy shit, Tobes,” says Jim in amazement. “Dare I ask why Douxie decided to steal a spaceship? And why Krel agreed to go along with it? Actually, no, I don’t have to ask the second question.”

“Don’t tell Mort because then Douxie might kill me,” Toby starts, “but, uh, long story short Krel’s been kidnapped and we’re rescuing him.”

There’s a long pause. “That’s definitely something Mort should know about.”

“Yeah, I _know_ ,” says Toby. “Trust me, I’m firmly on the telling Mort side.”

“Who kidnapped Krel?” Jim asks.

“We don’t know.”

“Where is he being held?”

“We don’t know.” Toby leans against the wall and sighs. “We can’t find him. Douxie and Steve cast the strongest tracking spell they knew, and you know they’re both strong wizards. But it didn’t pick anything up. At all.”

“That’s weird,” says Claire. Wait, Claire? “Hi, Toby, by the way. Jim’s got you on speaker. It’s just us two.”

“Sorry,” says Jim sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Toby. “And yes. It is weird. According to Mort, Celestials are crazy easy to track.”

“You don’t think…?” Claire trails off unsurely.

“I don’t want to think that,” Toby admits. “I’ve been actively trying not to, actually.”

“What exactly happened?” asks Jim.

“We were drugged and knocked out,” says Toby. “When we woke up, Krel was gone.”

“If they wanted to – you know – then they probably would have done it while you guys were knocked out,” says Jim. “You must be out of range or something. Maybe the kidnappers have something to hide him.”

“Maybe,” agrees Toby.

“It’s going to be okay, Tobes,” says Jim. “You’ll find him. Does Aja know?”

“Take a wild guess,” says Toby dryly.

“You _really_ should tell her.”

“Yeah, I _know_ , Jim.” Toby pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “This is a mess. Gah. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’m fine.”

“Keep us updated,” says Claire.

Toby nods, although they can’t see that. “I will. Just – for now, don’t tell Mort. I’m going to try to talk some sense into Douxie.”

“Good luck,” says Jim.

“Thanks,” says Toby. “We’ll need it.”

The line goes silent. Toby takes a few seconds to text Jim the pictures he took, then leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. He hasn’t missed this. To think his naïve fifteen-year-old self had once yearned for adventure. Toby would give anything to go back to a few days ago when the biggest adventure he had was eating the Akiridion fruitcake thing Nana made. Adventure like this came with danger and fear and people getting hurt or worse. They don’t even really know why Krel was taken. Jim’s right that they probably would have just killed him in the cabin if that’s what they wanted, but then again, there are worse fates than that out there. It scares him.

Krel very well could be dead. Long dead. And they wouldn’t even know – they might never know. They might never find him or the people who took him, and they couldn’t stay out here forever looking. Eventually they’d have no choice but to return, even empty-handed. Sure, Akiridion-5 would continue searching. They’d continue searching themselves, as much as they could, but it could all be for naught.

He can’t voice his concerns. For one thing, saying them out loud feels like a jinx. For another, he doesn’t know how Steve and Douxie would take it. They wouldn’t believe it. Douxie would probably refuse to hear it at all. Besides, it’s not like this is the first time they’ve been unable to find Krel when he’s been missing. They couldn’t find him when the Knights took him. Maybe it’s not as easy to find Celestials as Mort claims.

There’s a knocking sound and Toby opens his eyes. Steve stands in the doorway. “We’re about ten minutes out from docking at an outpost. I managed to find one that’s safe for humans.”

“Awesome,” says Toby. “Should we buy spacesuits or something? I feel like we’re super underprepared.”

“That’s because we _are_ super underprepared,” says Steve. He hesitates a second, uncertainty flashing through his eyes. “The search radius spanned all the way past Akiridion-5. I checked.”

“That’s a pretty big radius,” says Toby.

“We were out overnight,” says Steve. “I also checked that. Fifteen hours, give or take, by the time we scanned.”

Steve’s tone is making Toby uneasy. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. “Right.”

“It takes sixteen hours to make it to Akiridion-5, if you make really, really good time.”

“So there’s no way the kidnapper could have made it outside the search radius by the time we looked,” says Toby softly. Fuck. This isn’t good news at all. Steve nods as if reading his thoughts, brow furrowed deeply and lips curled in a worried frown.

“I haven’t told Douxie,” he admits. “He’s stressed enough as it is.”

“We’ll find Krel,” Toby says. “Maybe they have some sort of cloaking tech. Something that’s interfering with your magic. Why would they take him just to – it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Right,” says Steve. “Right. It doesn’t.”

“I won’t tell Douxie,” Toby promises. Steve nods again. “How long will we look?”

“Until we find him.” Steve falters and looks away. “Or confirm that we won’t be able to.”

Toby stands and straightens his hoodie. He hopes that he’s right about the cloaking tech. It will make it hard to find Krel, but at least it means there’s still a Krel to find. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Toby wants to go behind Douxie’s back and get Mort involved.

“We should tell Aja,” says Toby.

“You’re right,” Steve admits. “I’ll call her. She’s not going to be happy.”

“How much are you going to tell her?” Toby asks.

Steve winces. “That Krel’s been kidnapped. That we’re looking for him. That there’s cloaking tech involved, so don’t be alarmed if she can’t pick him up.”

“You’re going to pretend we know for sure there’s cloaking tech?”

“Would you rather I say he could be dead?” The bluntness of Steve’s question makes Toby flinch. Steve sighs. “I’ll tell her Douxie doesn’t want Mort to know, but I don’t think she’ll hide it from him if he asks.”

“Douxie’s going to have to suck it up,” says Toby. “Alright. Let’s go check out this outpost.”

He follows Steve out of the sleeping quarters and back to the cockpit. Douxie offers him a smile. Toby weakly smiles back. At least he’s adjusting to space travel. The stars out the window are arranged in unfamiliar shapes and constellations. Toby wonders if one of them is the sun, or if they’re already too far to see their home at all. Steve sits in the pilot’s seat again and takes the controls.

“Strap in for landing,” he says. “And be ready for anything.”

“Aye-aye, cap,” says Toby.

Docking goes a lot smoother than leaving Earth did, if you ask Toby. The outpost doesn’t seem too busy, which is good, because the last thing they need is to draw attention to themselves to a bunch of extra-terrestrials. They do get a few weird looks as they walk inside.

“Food and fuel,” mumbles Steve. “Follow me.”

Douxie fidgets with his sweatshirt’s sleeves. Toby shoves his hands in his pockets, half wanting to pull up his hood and make himself as nondescript as possible, but he’s learned from movies that pulling his hood up would make him look suspicious.

Steve directs them silently to pick up food provisions. Toby can’t read any of the languages, so he tries to find things that look the most like edible food that’s safe for human consumption.

“Oh, sweet,” says Douxie. Toby glances over and he holds up his phone. “Krel put a translation app on our phones. He really did think of everything.”

“I take back every time I thought half his updates were useless,” mutters Toby, pulling out his own phone and flipping through it for the translation app. Sure enough, now he can see that what he thought was an unassuming bag of rice was actually not at all edible.

They spend a few more minutes picking out things that seem edible before meeting Steve at the check-out and letting him handle paying for it. The extra-terrestrial there doesn’t speak English, but Steve is getting close to fluent in Akiridion so he manages to carry a fairly non-suspicious conversation with them. Toby only understands bits and pieces. Douxie probably understands more, since Toby knows Mort has made every effort to keep their household multilingual.

“This should last us a couple of weeks if we need it,” says Steve as they leave.

“We won’t,” says Douxie. “Once we get a bit farther out, we’ll rerun the scan. Then it’s just like you said, wormhole to Krel, get him out, wormhole home. Easy.”

Toby and Steve exchange distressed looks. It’s not going to go over well when the second scan doesn’t work and they have to explain their suspicions to Douxie. Even if Krel is alive like they hope, it’s going to be next to impossible to find him.

“Easy,” he echoes, because he can’t think of anything else to say. “Right.”

Toby wishes it could be so simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write! Douxie's lack of impulse control is definitely a fun central feature - local dumbass is too stressed to think things through ashdfhlsd
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter!!


	3. Gallivanting Across the Galaxy

Douxie likes to think he’s a great big brother. He was a little unprepared to become a big brother, granted, but he tells himself he’s done a good job so far. Except he _hasn’t_ because now Krel has been _kidnapped_ when _he_ was in charge. They’ve been in space looking for him for a few days now. _Days_. Douxie thought they’d be able to find and rescue him long before now. Uncle Mort knows they’re gone now. In fact, judging by some of the more recent texts, he also knows Krel was kidnapped, because _somebody_ (read: Steve) had told Aja.

“So,” says Steve awkwardly, twisting the pilot’s seat to face them, “Doux, have you texted Mort yet?”

“Nope,” says Douxie.

Steve sighs. “Look, I know you think he’s going to be mad.”

Douxie holds up his phone. “Oh, he’s already mad. Actually, I think we passed the point of _mad_ when we stole a spaceship.”

“And you knew that before we stole a spaceship and yet _insisted_ we steal a spaceship,” Toby says.

“Yep, uh-huh,” says Douxie. “Which is just going to make things worse. Also the fact I’ve been ghosting him for days now. Yeah. He’s far passed angry.”

“You brought this upon yourself,” Toby points out.

“I’m aware.”

“Have you at _least_ told Alex you’re okay?” asks Steve.

Douxie opens his mouth to say that of _course_ he’s told his fiancé he’s safe, only to realise that he actually hasn’t texted Alex. Steve and Toby exchange clearly exasperated looks. Douxie can admit he hasn’t thought much of anything through since Krel got kidnapped.

“I’m going to go call him now,” he says in a small voice.

“You do that,” says Steve.

“When I come back, do you think we’ll be far enough to run the scan again?” Douxie asks. His friends exchange looks again – they keep doing that, and Douxie doesn’t know for sure what it means but it scares him. They know something he doesn’t know, or maybe something he doesn’t want to acknowledge, and he’s not sure he wants them to tell him.

“We might as well,” says Steve heavily.

“Great!” says Douxie with forced positivity. “The sooner we find Krel, the better.”

There’s a long pause before Toby says, “Right. The sooner, the better.”

Douxie makes his way back to the sleeping quarters and sits on the bottom bunk that he’s claimed as his own. He takes a moment to brace himself for Alex’s anger, then presses his contact. It only rings twice.

“Douxie!?” There’s a note of relief and panic in Alex’s voice that makes Douxie feel bad. “Oh, thank god. Where are you? Wait, don’t answer that. The middle of space, I know that much. What the hell were you _thinking_?”

“I meant to tell you,” Douxie says.

“And Mort?”

Douxie winces. “Well. No, I meant to save Krel and be back before Mort even noticed we were gone.”

“How’d that work out for you?” says Alex dryly.

“I’m guessing you know exactly how well that worked out,” Douxie retorts. “Look, it’s been – harder than expected. We can’t find Krel yet.”

“Yeah, Aja’s got people scanning ‘round the clock and they haven’t found him, either,” admits Alex.

“Well, uh, how’s your internship going?” asks Douxie awkwardly.

“I quit.”

“You – why did you quit!?”

“My fiancé went missing and I decided that was a little more important than an internship in San Francisco.”

Douxie’s shoulders drop. “Alex, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” says Alex. “I’m on Akiridion-5 right now. With Mort. I should probably go get him so you can talk to him–”

“No!” Douxie exclaims. He can practically hear Alex raising an eyebrow. “He’s going to kill me. I’d rather… not right now.”

“He and Archie are both pissed, yes,” says Alex. Oh, crap, Archie. Archie is going to be even worse than Uncle Mort. It’s Archie’s own fault that he chose not to come camping, really, but Archie won’t listen to that. “Come to Akiridion-5. We can all regroup and find Krel together.”

“We can find him,” Douxie insists. “We’re going to run the scan again in a few minutes, and he should pop up and we’ll bust him out.”

“Is that seriously the extent of your plan?” Alex demands. “There’s strength in numbers, Douxie. It’s not a bad thing to have help.”

“It’s my fault he got taken!” Douxie bursts out. “I should have – I don’t know – realised quicker and protected him or _something_. I’m the oldest. I should have prevented this, so _I_ have to find him!”

“It is _not_ your fault,” says Alex sharply. He lets out a heavy sigh. “Is the scan really going to find him? If we haven’t here and we have Mort and the best of Akiridion tech, what makes you think you will?”

“We have to.”

“Promise me if the scan doesn’t find him you’ll come to Akiridion-5.”

“I should probably go,” says Douxie. He knows he can’t promise that, not when Alex has admitted that Akiridion-5 has had no luck either. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Douxie, I swear to god, you better not hang up on me–”

“Love you, babe!”

“ _Hisirdoux Mordred Galder-Penn–_ ” Oof, that was the terrible full name, time to go. He cheekily blows his fiancé a kiss and hangs up before Alex can say anything else. He lets out a heavy breath. Alex is… kind of right. Very right. As usual. But they’ll find Krel and they can rescue him and it will be fine. Totally fine. They’ve got this.

He stands and starts making his way back. They’ve all mostly figure out their way around the ship by now. It’s small and designed fairly clearly – thanks to Krel, no doubt – so it’s not that hard. He hears voices before he enters the cockpit and pauses.

“–know it’s not going to find him.” That’s Toby. Douxie’s brow furrows.

“Of course it’s not,” says Steve, frustration lacing his tone. “I _know_ , Toby, trust me I know, but Douxie…”

Oh. Of course. Douxie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything.

“He’s not going to take this well, is he?” says Toby.

“Are _we_ taking it well?”

“Better than Douxie will!” Douxie flinches at Toby’s exclamation. He wishes he could pretend he didn’t understand what they’re getting at, but he does. Perfectly. Even without admitting it to himself, he’d _known_. Their one chance of finding Krel was that first scan. Now, if they’d gone in the wrong direction or too slow or any other unpredictable factor, they have no hope of finding Krel. And that Akiridion-5 hasn’t been able to find him, not even with Uncle Mort’s help… Douxie forces down a wave of dread and takes a deep breath. For good measure, he plasters on a fake smile before opening the door to the cockpit. Both of his friends immediately turn to him in alarm.

“Ready for the scan?” he asks with false cheer.

“Uh, yeah,” says Steve. “Listen, Douxie…”

“He’s not dead,” Douxie says. Steve and Toby both freeze. “So don’t even suggest it. He’s _not_.”

“We weren’t going to,” says Toby placatingly. He glances at Steve and Steve nods. “Listen. I don’t think the scan will find him – not because he’s dead! But Steve and I think there must be something interfering with the tracking.”

Douxie nods slowly. “Right. That… makes sense. Alex says Akiridion-5 couldn’t find him either.”

“We need a different approach,” says Steve.

Toby crosses his arms and raps his fingers against his upper arm, staring out the window at the stars. There are so many places to look and they don’t even know where to start. Douxie doesn’t think he’s ever felt this helpless.

“You know,” says Toby, “that gas they used to knock us out had a really distinctive scent.”

“It was awful,” says Steve.

“Right,” says Toby, “but maybe if we know where it came from, we can figure out _who_ took Krel. That’d bring us one step closer to _where_ Krel is.”

“You might just be onto something there,” says Douxie, a relieved chuckle slipping out. “Do you think this ship can access the intergalactic databases Krel always looks at?”

“Not sure,” says Toby, “but if there’s anyone who knows about smelly gasses–”

“It’s definitely Stuart,” says Steve with a grin. He pulls out his phone and dials. A second later he puts it on speakerphone for their benefit. Douxie leans his arms on the back of one of the seats.

“’Ello?” comes Stuart’s voice through the phone. “Steve? That you? Good to hear from ya! Is it true you kids stole a spaceship?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“Kids after my own hearts! You know, I’ve stolen a few spaceships in my day–”

“That’s great, Stuart, you can tell us about that later,” Toby cuts in. “We need your help with something.”

“Oh, anything, anything,” says Stuart brightly.

“What do you know about gasses that can knock people out?” asks Steve. “Specifically one that smells weird. Like – I dunno, sweet and sour but like also really gross. Like badly burnt candy.”

Stuart hums unsurely. “Did it have a colour?”

“No, definitely colourless,” says Douxie.

“I think I know what you’re talking about, then,” says Stuart. “It’s very unique, very rare. You won’t find it anywhere in the galaxy except on Isbolti, that I know of. They don’t like to export it, which is a shame, you know, very good for surgery, that stuff.”

“Go back, go back,” says Toby. “Except where?”

“Oh, Isbolti!” chirps Stuart. “It’s a planet in the Ertrian system, give or take, eh, four hundred light-years from Earth? Very nice place, real icy, lots of snow. Perfect getaway when you’re sick of the summer heat. Why do you ask?”

“Long story,” says Steve. “Thanks, Stuart, you’re the best.”

“Glad I could help!” says Stuart. “Listen, I don’t know for sure what all is going on, but you kids stay safe.”

“We will,” says Toby. “Talk to you later.”

Steve hangs up the call and pockets his phone. “Guess we’re off to Isbolti, then.”

“Good thing Krel included wormhole tech,” mutters Toby. “Four _hundred_ light-years.”

“Akiridion-5 is way farther than that,” says Steve. “Like… forty thousand light-years I think?”

“ _Thousand_!?” repeats Toby. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, Akiridion-5 is like smack-dab on the other side of the centre of the galaxy if I remember right,” says Steve. “Krel and I made a map. We got bored.”

“And it _only_ takes sixteen hours to get there?” Toby says.

“And you wonder why Krel gets so frustrated with Earth tech,” says Steve. “According to every physics and astronomy class we’ve ever taken, that should be impossible, but here we are.”

“Dare I ask how far _we_ are from Earth right now?” Douxie isn’t sure he wants to know that answer. He’d felt vaguely sick just being a few thousand kilometres from Earth. They’ve been travelling for days in a ship built with Akiridion tech.

“Remember the day before last when I dragged you guys to come look out the window?” Steve asks.

“At that black hole you were so – wait.” Toby points an accusatory finger at Steve. “Don’t tell me.”

“Yeah, that was _the_ black hole,” says Steve sheepishly. He holds up his phone with a bright grin. “And I got pictures of the centre of our galaxy! How cool is that? The _centre_ of our _galaxy_! We’re the first humans to ever see it in person!”

Douxie sits. Okay. No big deal. They’re only on the other side of the galaxy. This is fine. This is totally normal. Space travel. His brother’s an alien, it’s totally normal. Oh, who is he kidding? Nothing about this is remotely normal.

“We’re not _sight-seeing_ , Steve,” Toby says.

“Circumstances aside, this is really cool, you have to admit,” says Steve. He shakes his head. “Okay, okay, but back to the Isbolti thing. We’re a good… we’re very far from Isbolti if it’s four hundred light-years from Earth, because we’re very far from Earth.”

“How many thousand light-years are we from Earth, Steve?” prompts Toby.

Steve glances at Douxie. “I think if I said the number Douxie might pass out on us, so I’m just not going to.”

“I wouldn’t pass out!” Douxie snaps.

“Now, I have yet to figure out how to access the intergalactic databases,” admits Steve. “I’m working on it. But I can get us close. Shouldn’t be too hard to jump to a system four hundred light-years from Earth, it’s just a matter of going the right direction.”

“Great,” says Douxie sarcastically, “so we’re just going to go galivanting all across the galaxy hoping we find this ice planet.”

“Essentially,” says Steve. “Alright. Buckle up. It’s wormhole time. Hopefully this won’t blow us up.”

“What!?” Douxie yelps.

“You’re the one that said this thing wasn’t finished,” Steve points out.

He’s right. Douxie did say that, technically, sort of. And Krel would have mentioned if it was complete, so it must not be. He hopes they don’t blow up. Alex would never forgive him if he got himself blown up. He straps into his seat and tries to calm his racing heart. He’s done wormhole travel a million times.

They don’t explode as the wormhole opens, and – much to Douxie’s relief – they’ve flown through and not blown up mere seconds later. He leans back in his seat and sighs. “We made it.”

“Yeah, no, we didn’t,” says Toby. Douxie opens his eyes. Yeah. That’s definitely not Isbolti, unless Isbolti has recently become a volcanic hotspot of a planet. Flames spew farther off the planet than Douxie would have ever thought possible.

“Well, we can cross this one off the list,” says Steve.

“How long is the list?” asks Douxie warily.

Steve flashes him an embarrassed smile. “I do not know.”

“Klebtastic,” Douxie grits out. He gestures forward. “Onto the next system, then. And hopefully the right one.”

The next system they ended up in had a black hole that they almost got too close to the event horizon of. The one after that consisted entirely of gas planets. The one after _that_ was in the process of being consumed by its sun, much to Steve’s excitement. By the fifth system – out of which they were chased by hostile ships who thought they were invaders – Douxie is getting very, very frustrated.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” says Steve as they exit to their sixth system. “Look at that! No black holes, no dying stars, no angry extra-terrestrials trying to kill us. Second third time’s the charm.”

“Whatever you say, Steve,” says Toby wearily. Douxie just leans his head back and groans. That’s it. They’re going to get themselves killed out here. Maybe Alex was right. Then again, they’ve got a far better lead than Akiridion-5. Then again – again – Akiridion-5 could wormhole them straight to Isbolti. Douxie hates it when Alex is right, because he always is.

“Look!” Steve exclaims. “Snow planet!”

Toby stands and walks to the window. Douxie follows him after a second of hesitation. This space travel thing is still very new, but it’s not too bad. He barely notices they’re moving as he walks, and if he pretends hard enough he can ignore the fact they’re floating billions of miles from home in the empty vastness of outer space with only some metal and their wits to protect them. That’s not totally terrifying at all.

Okay, it’s a little terrifying.

It’s a lot terrifying.

“Are you sure that’s the right snow planet?” asks Toby. Douxie’s not sure how they’ll be able to tell. It’s definitely a snow planet, which is a step closer than they’ve been on the past five, so maybe their luck is finally looking up.

“I am not,” says Steve. “But I’m bringing us in and scanning it anyway. Stuart would have told us if Isbolti was unsafe for humans, right?”

“No,” says Toby. “I doubt he’d think of that.”

“I’m sure it’s safe,” says Steve. He hesitates and pulls out his phone, presumably to text Stuart. “Come on, Tobes, have a _little_ more optimism here.”

“I’ll be optimistic when we get Krel back,” grumbles Toby.

As they get closer, Douxie can make out clouds swirling through the atmosphere of the planet. At least it has an atmosphere. That’s a positive, right? Of course, the atmosphere could be deadly. Krel has walked them through deep-space survival just in case, because their lives have been weird enough in the past that he figured it wasn’t hard to imagine a time one of them might get stranded in space. And, look, here they are. Not stranded but definitely in space.

“Okay, Stuart says Isbolti is safe!” Steve exclaims. “And the ship says this planet is safe for humans also, so I’m gonna land and we’re gonna try to find people. Or something.”

“Really wish we had a plan that was more than ‘find people or something’,” mutters Toby.

“Seconded,” says Douxie.

“First off, you don’t get to talk,” says Steve. “This whole operation was your idea, remember? Second, it’ll be fine. We’ll cast a tracking spell when we land.”

“We’ve established that we can’t track Krel,” says Toby.

“Just a general one for life-forms,” says Steve. “To help us find a city or something. I can’t see anything past all this grey and white. Strap in for landing.”

Oh, lovely, Douxie’s favourite part. He and Toby make their way back to their seats and buckle themselves in. The landing is rougher than the one to the outpost, maybe because they’re having to go through clouds and winds and try to land safely on what could be several feet of snow for all they know. They wait a few moments after landing before standing.

“Gotta say, I’m glad you know how to pilot a spaceship, ‘cause we’d be hella screwed otherwise,” offers Toby to cut the tension.

Steve laughs awkwardly. “Krel will be better at it. Although Krel might try to do tricks and then I worry about Douxie.”

“If I can survive Krel’s driving, I can survive Krel piloting a spaceship,” says Douxie. Krel’s not a bad driver, per se, but he has been known to take sharp turns and roundabouts at very high speeds, as well as weave in and out of tightly packed traffic on the interstate, so suffice to say Krel is a scary driver.

“Okay, it’s like double-digit negatives out there, so bundle up,” orders Steve. Douxie is glad they’d brought their backpacks from the cabin, which – thank you, Uncle Mort – have been enchanted to hold far more than normal backpacks. He was also glad Uncle Mort had insisted he and Krel bring their heavy-duty winter jackets. Sometimes his overprotectiveness actually came in handy. They all tug on jackets and gloves and scarves and Douxie pulls on his winter hat. He says Toby and Steve both grab their weapons as well, which is probably smart. Douxie can make his own. Actually, Douxie will have to make his own, because he doesn’t have any physical weapons.

The snow crunches under their feet exactly like the snow on Earth. The wind howls and bites at Douxie’s exposed face. Steve’s nose has already turned bright red after mere seconds outside the ship. Toby wraps his arms around himself and shivers.

“Next time I say I want to go to Alaska, remind me I don’t,” he says.

“You have _never_ said you want to go to Alaska,” says Steve.

“Well, if I ever do, just say Isbolti and I’ll know better,” Toby says, tugging his hoodie’s hood on and then his jacket’s as well.

Douxie goes cross-eyed for a moment to track a very large snowflake as it falls past his face, but he shakes his head and pulls his hat tighter over his ears. “Shall we cast that spell, Steve?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Which one?”

“Well, since we’re nowhere near civilisation, I guess just tracking for any life-forms,” says Douxie. That’s a fairly simple spell, an unanchored rune which will make all their lives easier. Douxie traces it slowly in the frigid air, watching the blue-grey of his magic light up the snow. Steve nods and repeats it in front of himself, then they guide their runes together. Double-casting doubles the strength, so in the event of interference they have a better chance of finding someone.

“Flashlight and compass all in one,” Steve says brightly.

“Like a cell phone,” says Toby.

Douxie pushes his rune forward. “All we have to do is follow it and it will lead us to the nearest life-forms.”

“Hopefully it’s close,” says Steve. “I think I’m getting frostbite already.”

Douxie pulls up his scarf to cover his nose. Well, Toby was right the other day. They are wizards. Does he know any safe warming spells? He thinks he might know a rune – no, wait, Uncle Mort said not to use that one on a person or he could kill them. But maybe he can use it on their clothes – well, except he doesn’t have anything to draw with. That’s one of the runes that needs a physical anchor. Does he know any other warming spells? Like a bubble of warmth – wait, that’s not a bad idea. He probably shouldn’t do two sustained runes at once – Mort would tell him not to – but Mort’s not here so he might as well.

He carefully draws the shielding rune in mid-air, then extends it across himself and his friends. The wind still howls outside, but the temperature is suddenly much warmer without the icy air blowing in their faces.

Toby glances at him. “Shield. Smart. Thanks.”

“No problem,” says Douxie.

“Want to drop your tracking rune?” asks Steve.

Douxie shakes his head. “Nah. Not right now.”

Steve shrugs. Douxie tries to look around to see if he spots anything or anybody, but the visibility is low. The snow has started to pick up, although it can’t get past Douxie’s shield, and judging by the direction the snow is blowing, the wind has also picked up. He shivers despite himself.

The rune abruptly turns. Douxie stumbles and Toby has to steady him, brow furrowed. He doesn’t ask. Maybe Douxie should drop his part of the tracking rune. No, it will probably be fine.

“Looks like it’s headed for that cave,” says Steve suddenly. He points ahead. Douxie has to squint to finally make out the cave, but as they draw closer its darkness stands out against the whites and greys of its surroundings. For the record, Douxie does not trust sketchy, dark caves, not since that one camping trip when he was ten and he sprained his ankle in a sketchy dark cave Mort told him not to go in. In retrospect, he has a history of not listening to his uncle. It never goes well. He hopes that isn’t a sign that this won’t go well, either.

“Guess we’re also headed for that cave,” says Toby. “Caves are cool. Oh! We should try to collect some space rocks!”

“Why would we do that?” asks Douxie.

“Astrogeology!” Toby exclaims.

“Nerd,” says Steve.

Toby raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me, which of us geeked out over a black hole?”

Steve’s cheeks turn redder, although that might be from the cold. “It was _the black hole_! Sagittarius A! The _centre of our galaxy_! That’s way cooler than space rocks!”

“Oh, cool, giant space death hole,” says Toby sarcastically.

“The name black hole is really misleading, you know, it’s not actually a hole in anything,” Steve says. “That we know of. There are theories – anyway, not the point, the point is, even if it really was a hole, a giant space death hole is cooler than space rocks.”

“We’re not here to collect rocks, Toby,” says Douxie.

“I’m going to collect some rocks,” he says.

Douxie sighs. There’s no winning this, and, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with Toby collecting some rocks. The cave still makes Douxie uneasy as they walk in and lose what little light they had outside in the snowstorm. He doesn’t drop the shield yet, just in case. There’s supposedly a life-form in here – or more than one – but they have no idea if it’s friendly.

His bad feeling only gets stronger the deeper they walk into the cave. The sound of the wind has died down, and it’s warmed up a bit. Something feels off. Douxie has long since learned to trust his instincts. They’ve never led him astray before.

“I don’t think we should be here,” says Douxie. “Something’s wrong.”

“Did you have a vision and not tell us?” asks Toby. “Listen, I know they unsettle you or whatever but with all this going on, you’ve got to tell us–”

“I haven’t had any visions lately, no,” says Douxie. “It just – feels off.”

“Off?” repeats Toby warily. Douxie appreciates that his friends also trust his instincts. “Like we’re going to find Krel but be way outnumbered by his captors or like we’re in the wrong place?”

“Not sure,” says Douxie.

Steve holds up a hand, brow furrowing. “Do you guys hear that?”

Douxie and Toby fall silent. Is that – breathing? He focuses, and yes, that certainly sounds like the breathing of something that is decidedly not them and definitely very large. That can’t be good.

“What do you think?” asks Toby lowly.

Douxie grimaces. “We can get a little closer. Stay quiet. Invisibility spell?”

“We need to save our energy,” says Steve. His sword hand rests on Excalibur’s hilt. “Stay close, weapons ready.”

“I already miss the days where we rarely needed these things,” mumbles Toby.

Douxie flexes his hands in preparation as they walk further into the cave. They can deal with some sort of space monster. Or maybe it’s not a space monster, maybe the locals are just very big, like trolls. Space trolls. That’s actually considerably more comforting than any other alternative he can think of.

Unfortunately – because since when has anything in Douxie’s life ever easy? – the life-form is not a space troll. Well. Douxie supposes it might be. It’s big and hairy and a lovely shade of grey and its very long teeth and very long claws are a lovely shade of white that Douxie thinks would be a shame to stain red. Luckily, it’s still sleeping, but he fears if they make one wrong move it will wake and attack them. It shifts. They freeze, as still as physically possible. Douxie can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“Any objections to getting the hell out of here?” whispers Toby. Steve and Douxie both mutely shake their heads. “Okay… slowly…”

They start backing away very, very carefully. For a second, Douxie thinks they can make it. Then the alien shifts again and opens its jaws in a yawn – oh, boy, that’s a lot of teeth – before making eye contact with them with all six eyes.

Douxie offers it a weak smile. The alien snarls.

“Run,” says Steve. All three of them take off in a dead sprint. They’d walked in a straight-ish line coming in, so at least they don’t get lost on the way out. They’re all the way back in the cold and snow before Douxie realises they haven’t been followed.

“I think,” he pants out, “we’re safe. For now.”

“We should regroup at the ship,” says Steve. Toby nods, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. Douxie tries to nod an affirmative, but his vision blurs and he stumbles. He holds out his hands to steady himself.

“You okay, man?” Toby asks.

“Yeah, fine,” says Douxie. He shakes his head to rid his vision of the black spots, but this only creates more of them. “Let’s just – get back to the ship.”

Steve’s brow furrows but he doesn’t say anything. Douxie’s been here before, the black spots and stuff, it’s probably just dehydration again. It’ll go away in a few seconds. He’s proven wrong when he goes to take a step forward and his entire vision goes dark.

“Oh,” he says, “never mind.”

Then he drops like a rock and his awareness disappears.

Douxie wakes up back in the ship, in his bed, and realises very quickly with horrifying clarity what had happened. He _fainted_. He used too much magic at once, exerted himself running, and _fainted_.

“I think living with Krel has been a bad influence on you,” says Toby. Douxie jerks into a sitting position, realising for the first time that his friends are in the room with them. He feels his cheeks heat up.

“We’re back,” he says dumbly.

“And you could stand to lose a pound or two if you’re going to make this a regular occurrence,” says Steve. “I _told_ you to drop the tracking rune.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, you were right,” says Douxie. He glances around, eyes landing on the window – open space again, no longer the windy whiteness of the snow planet. “We left?”

“Steve got the databases working,” says Toby. “Turns out that wasn’t Isbolti. Also turns out that planet has a crazy weird magnetic field that screws with tech. We’re lucky we got off when we did.”

“I’m still running diagnostics, but we lost wormhole tech for sure,” says Steve. “About lost navigation, but I think it’s okay. I set us on autopilot for the _real_ Isbolti, but it’s gonna take a few days.”

“Shit,” mumbles Douxie. “I should have listened to Alex. If we’d just gone to Akiridion-5, we could have gotten to Isbolti and back by now.”

“Probably,” agrees Toby.

Douxie brings his hands to his face and drags them downward. Judging by his friends’ expressions, they’d known very well that it would have been easier to go to Akiridion-5. “Why are you following me? I’ve already messed up at every turn.”

“This is important to you,” Steve says simply. Douxie swallows. “But if you’d maybe listen to _us_ a little bit more, then we could prevent a repeat of today. We don’t need you passing out on us.”

Douxie laughs weakly. “Alright. Well, I guess it’s too late to drop by Akiridion-5 now.”

“We’ll be in the Ertrian system sometime Friday,” says Steve. “Er, Earth time Friday. California time Friday. I’m going by our phones. Point is, we’ve got time. We’ll think up a plan, and when we get there, we’ll have more information and we can figure out where to go from there.”

“We _will_ find him, Douxie,” Toby promises softly.

Douxie nods and tries his best to hide his own anxiety behind a mask of false confidence. “I hope you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaa this was a fun one to write! Legacies is my first big fic exploring (my version of) Douxie's POV, and it's an absolute delight to write this dumbass! He's a good kid. Makes a lot of mistakes, but still a good kid. I hope y'all enjoyed Alex this chapter, by the way, because this is my fic and I do what I want you'll be seeing more of him and I hope you like him!
> 
> Fun fact! My version of how Douxie got his name is essentially two different ways of his bio-parents essentially spiting poor Mort. Percy suggested Hisirdoux, which Mort insisted wasn't a real name and so poor Douxie got stuck with it. Hannah added the Mordred middle name and Mort wasn't sure whether to be mad or start crying happy tears over it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this one!! See you next week!


	4. A Ticking Time Bomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: some mild torture

Krel wakes up with a pounding headache. His initial thought is that Steve finally convinced him to drink enough to get a hangover, but he’s pretty sure they hadn’t brought that much alcohol to the cabin. It’s only when he finally dares to open his eyes against the lights that he realises something is very wrong. He’s not in the cabin. In fact, he has no idea where he is. The small room looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, which is kind of an absurd thought because Krel himself looks like something out of a sci-fi movie.

It’s a testament to how fuzzy-headed he is that he only realises that his arms are shackled together after several minutes of staring around the unfamiliar room. The shackles definitely aren’t Earth tech, smooth and black with a small, blinking green light in the centre. There’s no visible keyhole, so they’re activated someway else. It takes another several seconds to recognise that he’s still in human form, so either he hasn’t been out very long or something is very wrong.

“Steve?” he calls uncertainly. There’s no response. “Douxie? Toby?”

Still nothing. Krel seems to be alone.

Okay. He knows he’s been captured by someone. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He doesn’t know where he is. He’s fairly sure it’s not a human who took him. He’s fairly sure he was taken alone, unless his friends are still unconscious. He hopes he was taken alone, if only because it would mean his friends are safe. He also hopes they realise he’s been taken so that there isn’t a repeat of the _last_ time he got kidnapped and everyone thought he was dead.

Unlike last time, Krel has a much better grip on his powers and how to use them. Also Uncle Mort insisted on teaching all of them the best ways to escape a kidnapping, with or without their powers or magic. This should be a breeze. Then all Krel has to do is get home. Step one is breaking the shackles, but that shouldn’t take more than simple energy burst.

The energy burst doesn’t work.

Krel frowns. That’s… odd. He tries again. Then tries to summon a sword. This also doesn’t work.

“In the name of Gaylen!” he shouts. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Suddenly Krel feels significantly less confident. It doesn’t make any sense. How could someone possibly take away his powers? No. Not take them away. He can still feel the energy crackling beneath his skin, ready to be channelled. Krel hasn’t gone a day _without_ using his powers since – well, pretty much since he got them. It’s as natural as breathing or as his friends’ magic. It feels wrong to call on them and get no answer.

He manages to push himself to his feet and walk to door. There seems to be an energy field blocking it, but he can see out into the hallway. He hesitantly presses his palms to the field, then yanks them back with a yelp as electricity sparks up his arms.

Okay. He needs to figure out who took him, why they took him, and how to escape. Seklos, he thought this was in the past. He hasn’t had a problem since high school, but suddenly he’s graduated college and people are kidnapping him again. Klebtastic.

He hears footsteps. His captor, most likely. He draws himself into the most confident stance he can muster while shackled and disoriented from his missing powers. The life-form that comes into view is not one Krel immediately recognises, pale as snow with four sharp blue eyes. He’s dressed in an industry-standard suit, with the addition of a hooded, furred vest and a bracer or something on his left arm. He looks like some sort of snow monster cryptid or werewolf or something. Okay, Krel is starting to realise now just how much he’s acclimated to Earth now that he keeps comparing this situation to Earth things.

“You’ve awoken,” says the life-form.

“Release me at once,” Krel demands.

“Can’t do that,” he says.

Of course he can’t. Krel goes for the next best thing: information. “What do you want with me?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” The life-form makes a motion like a human shrug. “Just know there’s someone out there willing to pay a whole lot of money if I bring you in alive.”

Alive is good. If this guy is in it for the money, he won’t risk Krel dying, which gives Krel a much better chance of escaping. Krel doesn’t really like any of the possible reasons someone could want him alive, but that’s a problem for later.

“My friends will find me,” Krel says. They’re probably already looking. If anyone can find him, it’s Uncle Mort. He doesn’t know how long he was unconscious, but surely his friends have noticed he’s gone and told Mort.

The life-form scoffs. “They’re natives of that piece-of-shit planet. I doubt they can even leave the atmosphere.”

“Hey, don’t talk about _my_ planet like that,” Krel snaps. “And you’d be surprised what humans are capable of when they put their minds to it.”

“Well, even if they _can_ get off-planet, they’ll never find us,” says the life-form. “We’re long gone.”

“Akiridion cores are notoriously easy to track,” Krel points out. It had always been something he hated, back when he had bounty hunters and evil knights after him, but now he’s thankful for it.

“But you’re not Akiridion, are you?”

Krel stills. Great. This guy knows about Gaylen’s core, which means the guy he’s working for probably knows too. Krel would put money on that being the reason he was taken. The idea chills him. The last time someone wanted him for Gaylen’s core, he almost lost his home. Who knows what will happen if this new threat gets a hold of him?

“Celestial cores are even easier,” warns Krel. “It would do you well to return me to my planet at once. Do you really want to mess with a god?”

“Some god you are to get captured like this,” says the life-form. “But they won’t be able to track you. I made sure of it.”

Krel really doesn’t like the sound of that. He does his best not to let his unease show on his face, but he expects some of the worry slips through anyway. “You really don’t know what this person wants with me?”

“I don’t,” admits the life-form. Something in his expression shifts. “Sorry, kid. It’s nothing personal. My client’s paying me good money for you.”

“I hope it’s worth it, then,” Krel says bitterly.

The life-form turns away. “I’ll be back with a meal later.”

He leaves. Krel leans against the wall and slides down it into a sitting position. Okay. He has to escape _before_ he gets to this client guy to be used for who knows what. And, Seklos, do the possibilities scare him. Whatever this guy’s plans are, Krel will not help him willingly, but how long before he figures that out and goes after Krel’s friends as leverage? How long before someone gets hurt or worse because of him? Krel can’t go through that again. He has to escape.

His captor said he’d be back with food. Krel can use that as a chance to escape. It would help if he could knock the life-form out, but without his powers and shackled like this he’s practically useless. Figuring out how to get out of these shackles would be a start. He twists and tries to use a foot to hold the shackles in place as he pulls his hands out. He ends up laying on his back, but he does manage to get his foot hooked in. Unfortunately, all he manages to do trying to tug his hands out is bruise them, most likely. Krel thinks he’s seen people get out of things like this by dislocating their thumbs or something, but he doesn’t know how to do that. Mort’s gone over plenty of ways to escape with his powers and even ways to do things like break zip-ties or untie rope without powers, but his stance has always been “if you can’t escape without hurting yourself and you’re not in immediate danger, wait to be rescued.” If the life-form is right, though, there won’t be a rescue anytime soon.

Sometimes, Krel really, really wishes he hadn’t integrated with Gaylen’s core.

True to his word, the life-form returns what’s probably no more than a few hours later, holding a plate of food. He sits cross-legged in front of Krel and pushes the plate to him. Krel doesn’t touch it.

“It’s not poisoned,” says the life-form. “My client doesn’t want you harmed and he’s promised me he’s not going to harm you. He just wants your help.”

“Right, because that explains why he hired a bounty hunter to kidnap me instead of contacting me himself,” Krel says.

“My name is Isavox,” says the life-form. “How old are you, Prince Krel?”

“Twenty,” Krel bites out, “not that it’s _any_ of your business.”

Isavox frowns. He nudges the plate forward again. “Eat.”

Krel pushes the plate roughly back towards Isavox. The man’s shoulders drop. Krel knows if he intentionally starves himself or something, Uncle Mort will personally kill him, but he still doesn’t trust that the food isn’t laced with something or other.

“I won’t hurt you,” Isavox says. “I’m not the kind of man who hurts children. I need this job, though. My client won’t hurt you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Krel says softly. He’s gone through as many scenarios as he can in his head, and none of them are good. If this client wanted his help for something he’d agree to, he would have just come to Earth himself and _spoken_ to Krel. No, this client does not mean well, and Krel does not intend to let himself be used to wreak destruction.

“He won’t tell me why he wants you,” admits Isavox. “But I can try to find out.”

Krel narrows his eyes. “Why would you bother? I’m just a job for you. You’ll deliver me, get your money, and never think of this again.”

“Look, you’re right, this doesn’t sit right with me,” he says. “I didn’t know you were a kid when I took the job.”

And as much as it irks Krel to be called a kid by some stranger – he’s not a child any longer, he is of age by both Akiridion and Earth standards – he knows this could be an advantage for him, so he holds his tongue. It’d be good to know what he’s being dragged into, and maybe he can convince Isavox to let him go.

“Do you have a blanket or something?” he finally asks. Isavox blinks at him and Krel wonders if it’s smart to test the limit of his captor’s hospitality this early.

“Oh, of course,” says Isavox. “I can bring you to a more comfortable room. I’ll have to rig the door like this one and keep you shackled, but you’ll have a bed.”

Okay, that was more than Krel expected. His surprise must show on his face, because Isavox’s smile softens a bit and he pushes the plate of food back towards Krel. Krel hesitantly picks up what looks kind of like a chicken finger from campus dining. It’s not chicken – or even any type of meat Krel recognises – but it tastes better than any prisoner food he’s ever imagined.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

“I am truly sorry about the shackles,” says Isavox.

“You’re being strangely nice for a bounty hunter,” Krel says, before realising he probably shouldn’t have said that.

Isavox makes a motion that might have been a shrug if he’d been human. “I’m used to hunting hardened criminals and the like, not children.”

“You knew who I was,” says Krel. “My age is no secret, either, yet you still took the job.”

“On the contrary,” says Isavox. “I was not originally informed of your identity. I stayed away from Morando’s bounty for a reason.”

Krel doesn’t believe that in the slightest, although he’s not entirely sure what Isavox is playing at. Does he think if he’s nice Krel won’t try to escape? Krel’s not stupid. Isavox can be as nice as he wants, but he still drugged and kidnapped him and he’s not above knocking the guy out to escape. Still, he eats the rest of the food, if only because he’ll need his strength to escape.

“I’ll go set up your room and be right back,” says Isavox. He stands and offers Krel a smile that Krel doesn’t return, then leaves the cell. Krel leans back against the wall. At least he’s pretty sure he’s relatively safe. Isavox seems at least honest about not wanting to hurt him, although Krel’s sure that will change once he tries to escape on the way to this new room. He tries to mentally go through what combat training he has. Without his powers, a lot of it is useless. He never expected to have his powers locked away like this – he hadn’t even known that was possible.

It’s only a few minutes before Isavox returns. He helps Krel to his feet and hands him what looks like an orange cookie. Krel takes it hesitantly.

“Dessert,” says Isavox. “Try it. It’s a speciality from a planet about four light-years from here.”

Krel takes a hesitant bite. It does taste good, tangy and sweet. He kind of thought it would taste like orange but instead it’s similar to sour apple candy. He eats the rest of it. “Thanks.”

“I’m sure you’re going to try to escape,” Isavox says.

“No, I would never,” Krel retorts, not bothering to hide the sarcasm dripping from his tone. Of course he’s going to try to escape. No amount of sweets or being nice is going to change that.

“I truly don’t want to hurt you,” says Isavox, “but you’ll understand that I can’t let you escape. I’m sorry.”

The apology seems strange until Krel registers the heaviness settling over his limbs and the daze beginning to cloud his mind. “The cookie.”

Isavox nods. “Sleep well, your highness. I’m sorry.”

Krel tries to fight the drug, mentally cursing himself for trusting the food at all. He should have known better. He stumbles away from Isavox, back hitting the wall and head ringing. His struggle is no use. The world spins and finally goes dark.

When Krel comes to, he’s in a bed. At least that much Isavox was honest about. He still feels a little groggy, but it’s not nearly the headache he’d had waking up from the first drug. His hands are still shackled, as expected, but he has to grudgingly admit this room is a lot nicer than the cell.

He closes his eyes and focuses on his powers again. Something. Anything. He can feel them churning beneath his skin, and he feels warm, uncomfortably so, like the time he got the flu really bad and ran a fever for days. That wasn’t a pleasant experience. He doesn’t want to repeat it. He doesn’t think he’s getting sick, though, so it’s either something to do with the drugs Isavox used or something with these shackles.

Krel uses his powers all the time. Maybe too much. Could that be part of the problem? Has he become too reliant on his powers? He still doesn’t even understand how they could be blocked. Whatever the Red Knight had done years ago to block all the magic in Mort’s shop hadn’t even been enough, so how is this what brings him down? He focuses his energy towards his shackled wrists. Maybe if he builds up enough power in one localised spot he can manage to punch through whatever’s blocking him.

“Come on,” he grits out. “Come _on_.”

It’s no use. He falls back on the bed, holding his shackled hands above him and glaring at them. His still-human skin taunts him. Powers gone. Transduction locked. Is it the inability to use his powers that has him feeling vaguely ill, or is it that he’s been stuck in human form for so long? Transduction usually only lasts twelve hours, sometimes with stronger tech a full Earth day, so there have never been any real studies on the effects of prolonged, uninterrupted transduction.

There’s a short knock on the door, then Isavox enters. Krel sits up and narrows his eyes as the bounty hunter gently places a plate of food down on the table next to the bed.

“I understand you’re angry with me,” says Isavox.

“Gee, I wonder why,” Krel snaps. “Oh, wait. You drugged me. _Again_.”

“I spoke with Galeth again,” says Isavox. Galeth. That must be the client. The fact that Isavox is giving Krel a name for this guy is either a good sign or a trick. After last time, Krel is going to assume it’s a trick for now. “He won’t tell me why he wants you. He still promises not to hurt you.”

“And I told you, it’s not _me_ I’m worried about,” Krel shoots back, fighting to keep his voice even. “I’ve seen first-hand what the powers of a Celestial can do in the wrong hands.”

Isavox pulls up a chair and sits, linking his fingers together and inclining his head to the plate of food. “Eat. It’s not drugged this time.”

Krel raises a sceptical eyebrow. Isavox sighs, then takes one of the French fry looking things and eats it himself. Fine. Maybe it’s not drugged. Krel takes the plate and tries one of the fries. He doesn’t know what else to call them. They’re sweet, kind of like the sweet potato fries the dining hall loves to serve them, but there’s a sour tang to them he doesn’t expect.

“I’m concerned myself,” admits Isavox.

Krel pauses to frown at him. “Then let me go.”

Isavox doesn’t reply, brow furrowed as he absently takes another fry from Krel’s plate. “So… do you like this room better?”

“How did you block my powers?” Krel demands. Isavox blinks, clearly surprised, although he should have been expecting that question. “I know it must be something with these shackles, unless it’s another drug you used on me.”

“No, it’s the shackles,” admits Isavox. “Galeth gave them to me. They’re supposed to be some sort of power-suppressing thing… um, there was a word he used. I can’t – let me see…”

He stammers out several distinctly Akiridion syllables. It takes Krel a second to understand what he’s trying to say, especially because he’s only heard the word in Akiridion a handful of times.

“Aura?” he repeats in English. “These are aura-suppressors?”

“That’s the one!” Isavox says. Krel’s face must betray his horror because Isavox’s expression falls. “Listen, I know it’s probably uncomfortable, but it’s those or drugged unconsciousness for the entire trip.”

“You don’t understand,” says Krel. Uncle Mort has taught him about aura, because even though Krel can’t see it like he can it’s important to know about. He can’t imagine it’s safe in any way to suppress the energy that’s constantly being emitted by every living being. “Aura isn’t meant to be kept in. That isn’t safe.”

“What do you mean?” asks Isavox carefully. Well. Krel has nothing to lose by explaining, he supposes.

“Aura is something everyone has,” he says. “But different people emit different levels of energy. A biologically-based life form like you is usually pretty low on the scale. Energy-based life-forms or magic users are going to be higher up.”

“And I’m guessing a Celestial would be at the very top,” completes Isavox grimly. “And keeping all the energy trapped… I can’t imagine that ending well. Galeth didn’t say anything about that.”

“Still believe he won’t hurt me?” Krel asks.

Isavox stands and straightens his vest. “I’ll be right back.”

Krel watches him go. He doesn’t think anything good will come of demanding answers from this Galeth, which is what he’s pretty sure Isavox has gone to do. Maybe he isn’t so bad, besides the drugging part. If Krel can at least get him to take off the shackles, he can escape and get home. Then, of course, they’ll need to figure out what to do since apparently some guy with access to aura-suppressing technology is willing to pay people to get to Krel. Aja will need to know – Krel has, in fact, learned from last time that keeping his sister in the dark is a bad plan. She probably already knows he was kidnapped.

Of course. That’s why Isavox thinks they won’t be able to find him – if his aura is trapped, suppressed, then it won’t be detectable. He doesn’t know if Mort knows any spells to track him without aura. Core output is the same thing as aura, which means traditional Akiridion tracking won’t find him either. If it takes too much longer, if these shackles stay on, Krel is afraid of what might happen when they come off. That much built-up energy being suddenly let free is not going to be a pretty sight.

Isavox returns. His expression is darker, worried. “You were right.”

“Colour me surprised,” Krel says dryly.

“So I’m going to let you go,” says Isavox. “Please don’t attack me. We can take my ship back to your planet, and then I’ll never bother you again.”

Krel really, really shouldn’t trust him.

“Okay,” he agrees anyway. He holds out his shackled hands. Isavox carefully removes them, and Krel instantly feels lighter even as Isavox stumbles backwards. He’ll keep his word, so long as Isavox keeps his own.

“Even a few more hours and that could’ve been bad,” mumbles Isavox. “Alright. It’s going to take us hours to get to Earth, so you best make yourself comfortable. Feel free to join me in the cockpit.”

“I will,” says Krel. “Not that I don’t trust you, but… you did drug and kidnap me.”

“You know, that’s fair,” says Isavox.

He gestures for Krel to follow him. It’s good to see the rest of the ship, in case he does need to take drastic measures. It’s not as sleek as an Akiridion ship, but still much better than all purely human-made ships Krel has been in. And he’s been in several for his internship. It’s also better than Stuart’s ship, not that that’s hard. Stuart’s ship is so antique it almost makes human spacecrafts look modern. Almost.

“It’s not quite an Akiridion ship,” Isavox says as if reading his mind.

“Does its job,” Krel says.

Isavox chuckles. “That it does. Tell me, Prince Krel, why do you stay on this Ayart?”

Krel blinks at him. “You mean Earth?”

“Is that how it’s said?” says Isavox. “Huh. Odd. Very well, why do you stay on this Earth? From what I could tell, it is thousands of keltons behind Akiridion-5.”

“There’s more to a planet than technology and scientific advancement,” says Krel. Once upon a time, he might have shared Isavox’s stance, but he’s learned that Earth has a vast richness of its own. Hundreds of languages instead of one globally standardised one. Hundred of cultures, too, all with their own ways of understanding the world around them. Krel hasn’t visited many of the more advanced planets of the galaxy, but he knows they trend closer to Akiridion-5 than to Earth. The life that radiates from Earth’s very soil is something Krel never saw back home.

“That’s certainly not what most people think,” says Isavox.

“What is your planet like, then?” asks Krel.

Isavox frowns. “Cold. Not really – my favourite planet in the galaxy. Isolated. I wanted to explore, to see the universe, so I left. Money doesn’t come easy out here, though, so becoming a bounty hunter was the best option I had.”

“I think my sister is trying to set up a task-force,” says Krel. “To help vulnerable people and planets. Something our parents – failed to do. You could perhaps join. It is a more honourable path than bounty hunting.”

Isavox eyes him as he sits in the pilot seat. “I’ll think about it, kid.”

Krel sits in the seat closest and stares out the window. He doesn’t recognise the star formations. The unfamiliar constellations unsettle him. He knows Akiridion-5’s and he knows Earth’s – he made a specific point to learn all the Earth constellations he could, for Seamus – but he’d never taken courses in deep space travel back when he was a kid so he doesn’t know much about identifying foreign stars.

“We’re a few light-keltons away from the Yalqa System,” offers Isavox, as if that’s supposed to help Krel who, once again, never actually learned much about the rest of the galaxy. If the coup hadn’t happened, he probably would have started getting lessons on that shortly after his coronation. As the youngest, he was never _actually_ meant to be king, even if his parents always acted like he and Aja would rule together. No, he was probably bound to be some sort of ambassador at best and planet-bound advisor at worst. At least on Earth he will be able to make a real difference. On Earth he isn’t the spare.

“How far are we from Earth?” asks Krel.

“We’re out past Akiridion-5, if that answers that,” says Isavox. “So a little bit. Like I said. Get comfortable.”

“Do you have my cell phone?”

Isavox glances at him. “Your who-what-now?”

“My phone,” Krel says, “the little rectangle thing.”

Isavox winces. “No, sorry. Was it important? It should still be on Earth.”

“I could have contacted my friends to let them know I’m okay,” says Krel. He shakes his head. “Can I use your communications to call my sister instead?”

“Sure, kid,” says Isavox, jerking his head towards another console. “Put in a good word for me.”

“He knows his drugs,” says Krel flatly. He stands and walks over to the console. He’s still stuck in human form, but he suspects somehow the shackles paused the transduction – froze it in place – so he has a few hours left without his serrator.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Isavox stiffen. Red flags shoot up as auto-pilot is suddenly reactivated before Krel can even type in the codes to call the palace. Isavox turns. Something is – different. Wrong.

“I’m just… I’m going to call her now,” says Krel warily.

“No, you’re not,” growls Isavox. The sudden switch from friendly to hostile surprises Krel, enough that he doesn’t react in time to Isavox grabbing his right arm and twisting it roughly behind his back. He yelps, then spins away from him and summons a sword.

“You fucking liar,” he grits out. Isavox darts forward and grabs Krel’s wrist – his left one, the arm holding the sword – and wrenches it backwards. There’s a cracking noise accompanied by sharp pain. That’s just what he needs.

His head is slammed down into the console and he gasps and blinks stars out of his vision. He feels hands wrap around his throat and squeeze and at first all he can think is, _not again_. He kicks desperately, struggling to get free and get air, darkness creeping in on the edge of his vision. Isavox is blank-faced. Krel doesn’t understand. His lungs burn – humans need so much more air – Krel is perhaps too human nowadays – he can’t _breathe–_

He succumbs to unconsciousness.

He wakes back in the cell, shooting up and gasping in air. His lungs still burn. His throat burns. He starts coughing, bringing his once-again shackled hands to his chest to clutch at his t-shirt. Trusting Isavox had been a mistake. His right shoulder throbs and his left wrist sends shooting pains up his arm with every slight movement. His headache is back.

Isavox appears at the door of his cell.

“You – bastard,” Krel manages. Talking hurts. He’s sure he has awful looking bruises around his neck, the kind that won’t fade for a while and that will make Uncle Mort fret for weeks after. If he’s found, none of them are going to let him out of their sight for months. Grad school suddenly seems like a much farther dream. Returning home suddenly seems like an even blurrier one.

“Do not try to escape again,” says Isavox. “You’re wanted alive. Not in one piece.”

“Dirty trick,” Krel forces out, “getting me to trust you. Just so you could beat me up? Do it again, asshole.”

Isavox holds up some sort of remote and presses a button. Krel instantly regrets his words, a scream ripping out of his already sore throat as electricity sparks up from the shackles to engulf him. He’s not sure how long it lasts, only that when it ends he’s left twitching and in agony.

“Hold your tongue,” says Isavox.

Krel coughs roughly and harshly for a few seconds, then spits blood at his captor. Oh. He’s bleeding. That isn’t good.

“Fuck you,” he bites out despite this.

This time, the electricity is not a surprise, but it’s just as painful. It ends just as quickly, or maybe just as slowly, and he lays on the floor gasping for air and choking on blood and tears. He’s been tortured before. This isn’t new. Still fucking sucks.

“I’ll be back later,” says Isavox. “Learn to contain yourself by then.”

Krel hears him leave. He doesn’t have the energy to look, closing his eyes and trying to regain control of his breathing. He doesn’t understand why Isavox did such a sharp turn. It doesn’t make sense. Is he really just that sadistic, to get Krel to trust him and then use that to hurt him? He had him defenceless before. He could have just done this then. It doesn’t matter. Krel has learned his lesson. He has to pray those short minutes were enough for his family to find him – and soon. 

Krel doesn’t think they will. He will not be used as a weapon. He will do what he must to protect the universe from his powers. He hopes his family can forgive him one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first Krel chapter!! Kiddo's not doing so hot and we're only at the beginning. 
> 
> This chapter actually didn't go in the way I originally thought but it let me do something I wanted to do so everything worked out! 🙂 I also spent more time describing alien food than I expected kjfahsdlfkj but I hope you guys enjoyed this one!!


	5. A Wizard's Best Friend

Steve is going to throw Douxie off the ship. As much as he likes to whine about Mort being an overprotective parent, he’s got his own overprotective streak a mile wide. Steve _gets_ it, he does, he’s worried about Krel too, but if Douxie doesn’t calm down and sit still Steve will abandon him to the cold, dark emptiness of space. They’ve been flying for a couple of days now. Steve is tired and cranky and needs a break, but he’s the only one who can pilot the ship.

“How much farther?” Douxie asks for the seventeenth time today. Yes, Steve is counting.

“Tomorrow,” Steve snaps. “No matter how many times you ask, the answer is _still_ tomorrow.”

“What would be tomorrow, anyway,” says Toby, holding up his phone. “Not really _days_ in space. Oh, Douxie, by the way, you really should stop ghosting your dad. He knows. He’s pissed. Might as well bite the bullet.”

“Haha, _no_ ,” says Douxie. “I’d sooner bite a real bullet than call Uncle Mort right now.”

“The longer you ignore him, the worse it’s gonna be,” Steve points out.

“Nope, it’s already going to be bad,” says Douxie. “Show me the GPS. Like, when tomorrow?”

Steve rolls his eyes up to stare at the ceiling and count to ten. It’s like travelling with a child. He starts mentally compiling a list of ways to explain to Mort that they lost one of his kids. A tragic accident. Airlock opened or something. Okay, well, no matter how tempting it is, he’d never throw one of his closest friends into space.

“There’s no GPS in space, dumbass,” Toby teases. “ _Global_ positioning system, not galactic.”

“How do you know it isn’t called galactic positioning system?” Douxie shoots back. Steve glances back to see Toby’s dumbfounded face. Douxie’s got him there. They’ll have to ask Krel when they get him back. If they get him back.

“So what’s the plan when we get to Isbolti?” asks Steve. Because they need a plan. If they don’t have a plan, it won’t end well. He already doesn’t like how vague their plan is so far. “Go in and ask nicely if they kidnapped Krel and why?”

“Maybe we ask about the gas first,” says Douxie. “You know, act curious. That’s some cool gas you got. Could it be used to, I dunno, steal a Celestial?”

“We could pretend to be bounty hunters,” Toby suggests.

“We are not pretending to be bounty hunters,” Steve says.

“It’s a good plan!”

“It’s a terrible plan.”

“You’re just no fun.”

“Douxie’s right,” says Steve. “We should ask about the gas, work our way up to asking who might have gotten a hold of some recently and how to find them.”

“Fine,” says Toby. “But if it backfires because we’re not bounty hunters, I told you so.”

Steve rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. They have to find a lead here. He and Douxie have both run the spell several more times, but it’s still no luck. Steve has even tried varying the spell, and he’s certain Douxie has gone even further with experimenting than he has. He’s always been willing to risk a lot just for curiosity. With Krel’s life on the line, Steve doesn’t think there’s anything Douxie won’t do.

What could be interfering with their spells? There should have been nothing that could hide Krel from a determined, powerful wizard, let alone two. Steve and Douxie were both trained by _the_ Mordred, Douxie is a prodigy and Steve isn’t half bad himself, they should be able to find him. It scares him more than he wants to admit. He pushes it out of his head. If he thinks about it too much he’ll spiral, and then Douxie will catch on and start to spiral, and then Toby will freak out and they’ll all be spiralling.

“Alright, let’s just focus on getting there,” says Steve. “And Toby, I swear to god if you try to start another road-trip game I will tape your mouth shut.”

“Duly noted,” says Toby. “I’ve figured out there isn’t much to play out here. I thought space would have more stuff.”

Steve sighs. “It has lots of stuff. It’s also very, very big.”

“Then we better hope Isbolti gives us a lead,” mumbles Toby.

Steve closes his eyes and nods grimly. “We better hope.’

It’s around noon back home - or, well, maybe not noon back home since relativity and all that - when they finally arrive in Isbolti’s system. Douxie looks dead tired. Like all of them, he hasn’t been sleeping well, but Steve secretly thinks he’s avoiding sleeping. Steve doesn’t blame him. On the one hand, he almost wishes Douxie would have some prophetic dream that would lead them straight to Krel. On the other, he’s terrified that it will only be bad news.

“Is that it?” Douxie asks anxiously. Steve nods, pulling up scans of the planet to see if there’s a port they can land in. No luck. Apparently, Isboltians don’t tend to go off-world for any real reason, so there aren’t any galactic ports. Instead he locates the capital city – has he mentioned how weird it is that so many planets have one centralised planetary capital? – and tries to find a place to land.

“Get your winter clothes ready, it’s going to be chilly,” warns Steve. “Local temps are in the double-digit negatives right now.”

“Great,” says Toby dryly.

“Okay, buckle up, bringing us down,” says Steve. Man, he hopes this isn’t like, farmland that he’s landing on. Douxie grips the arms of his seat with white knuckles. Toby treats it just like a car ride, leaning back and texting someone on his phone as if they aren’t entering a foreign atmosphere in a spaceship.

He manages a smooth landing, thank goodness. Most of the past several days has been him stressing about piloting the spaceship correctly and not getting them all killed in space. Another quick scan reassures him that Stuart was right about the planet being safe for humans, aside from the bitter cold. As soon as they’re settled, Toby begins pulling out their winter clothes and tossing them at them.

“Doux, you think you can pull off that wind shield without passing out on us again?” he asks.

Douxie makes an annoyed face. “Yes, I can pull off a simple shield without passing out.”

“You sure?” Steve asks. “I could probably fit a textbook or two in the bags under your eyes.”

“Fuck off,” mutters Douxie without any heat. “I may be a little tired but I can still do basic magic.”

They leave the ship and Douxie and Steve both put up shields. Steve keeps an eye on his cousin warily, because Douxie really is as stupid as Krel and he’s not confident that he won’t pass out again. Thankfully, the city is only a very short walk. They get a lot of weird looks from the locals. Steve suspects they don’t get many visitors.

“Anyone speak Isboltian?” Toby mumbles.

“Hang on,” says Douxie, before whispering a spell and grabbing both their arms. A shiver runs down Steve’s spine, and suddenly the murmurs around them are in understandable English.

“For real, when you faint again, I’m not carrying you,” says Steve.

Douxie dramatically rolls his eyes at him, then walks forward to a group of Isboltians and raises a hand in greeting. “Hello! We’re looking to speak to your leader, if that’s alright. We come in peace.”

“The governors’ hall is that big building down the street,” says one of the Isboltians. They gesture with a hand and what seems to be a smile. “It is strange to see outsiders on our planet.”

“Strange to be on another planet,” says Toby. “Thank you for your help.”

The Isboltian inclines their head. The three of them start towards the governors’ hall. At least the Isboltians aren’t hostile, only a little wary. It’s honestly a better reaction than humans might have had, if three aliens dropped into DC and started asking to see the president. They’re easily led into the governors’ hall and led to a rounded, empty room with a screen and several seats.

“Make yourselves comfortable while I summon the governor,” says the Isboltian who led them in. They make a complicated bowing motion and leave. Douxie sits and rubs his forehead. Steve lets his eyes wander around the room, taking in the silvery décor and the illustrated wall panels. It’s really pretty. He’s tempted to take pictures but he also thinks that would be rude. This place could be sacred for all he knows.

A more regally dressed Isboltian enters after a few minutes, followed by what seem to be two guards. The governor also bows, so they do their best to bow back. The governor chuckles.

“Rise, rise, strangers,” says the governor.

“His highness the governor of Aani, Trovin Denerix,” says one of the guards.

Denerix waves him off with an easy-going smile. “Peace, strangers. You are welcome here. We do not get visitors often, but we are happy to host you.”

“Uh, hi,” says Steve. “I’m Steve Palchuk. This is Douxie Galder-Penn and Toby Domzalski.”

“Welcome to Isbolti,” says Denerix. “Where do you hail from?”

“Earth,” says Steve. “About four hundred light-years from here.”

“And what brings you to us?” Denerix asks.

“What do you know about knockout gasses?” Toby blurts.

The governor eyes them critically for a few moments. “We are not selling it.”

“We don’t want to buy it,” says Douxie. “Please, it was – used on us – and then one of our own was taken. We just want to get him back.”

Denerix’s expression immediately turns sympathetic. “My condolences. Were you close?”

“He’s my little brother,” Douxie says hoarsely.

“Then I am truly sorry,” says Denerix. “The only solace I can offer you is that if he was taken, then the bounty does not want him dead. The man that took him is likely Isavox, one of our own, likely the only Isboltian bounty hunter you will find.”

“So he’s still alive,” Steve says.

“Unless he is to the client already, I am certain he remains alive,” says Denerix. “We will aid you where we can. It is the least we can do to make up for one of our own’s grievance against you.”

“Thank you,” says Steve. “We appreciate it.”

“I encourage you to stay the night,” says Denerix. “You look dead while walking. Especially the blue-furred one.”

Douxie bristles immediately. “I’m fine.”

Denerix doesn’t seem to believe that, although he has enough social grace not to argue with a guest. Steve nudges Douxie subtly. They shouldn’t backtalk someone who’s helping them so much, especially not someone in a position of power.

“I insist,” says Denerix. “Feel free to explore the city. I will have my men fetch you for dinner. Do you have any dietary restrictions we should know about?”

They exchange wary looks. Steve doesn’t have the faintest clue what kind of food even exists here, let alone if they can eat any of it. Denerix seems to understand this, because he chuckles and makes an unfamiliar gesture.

“We’ll go for intergalactic standards, then,” he says. “Things most life-forms can digest.”

“Thanks,” says Steve.

Denerix gestures to one of the guards. “This is Erril. He will guide you around the city. He can answer any questions you have.”

Erril lowers his head. “Come. Are you warm enough?”

“As we can be,” says Toby.

“Very well,” says Erril. “Please, follow me.”

Denerix inclines his head to them as they follow Erril out of the room. Douxie’s frustration is shuttered behind a mask of politeness, and Steve wouldn’t know the difference if he hadn’t known Douxie for so long. He can see the anxiousness swirling in his eyes though, the way he keeps looking around and fiddling with his hands in his pockets. It doesn’t help he’s been separated from his familiar too long. According to Mort, wizards and familiars get really antsy if they’re apart for much longer than a few days, maybe a week. It’s been a little over a week already.

“The governors’ hall is the oldest building in town,” says Erril. Oh, man, if this is one of those guided tours Douxie might just snap and kill someone. Steve thinks it’s cool, but then again Steve has thought everything about being in space is cool. Douxie, on the other hand, has been so stressed Steve swears he’s seen grey hairs.

“Are most planets this friendly?” Toby asks before Erril can start giving them the history of the governors’ hall. Steve kinda wants to know. He did a bunch of sight-seeing tours and stuff when he studied abroad in Europe.

“We do not have many visitors,” says Erril, “and we do not often leave, if ever. So I do not know. Is your planet this friendly?”

Steve thinks back to Kubritz and how humans can’t even bother to treat other humans with common decency half the time and shakes his head with a wince. Toby grimaces as well. “Yeah, no, definitely not.”

“The galaxy is very large,” says Erril. “It doesn’t seem outright hostile. Or perhaps it fears our cold. We don’t get invaders, but not many can handle the temperatures here.”

Douxie shivers. “Snow. Not my cup of tea.”

“You’re going to Connecticut for grad school, you better acquire the taste of snow very fast,” Steve says.

“So your planet gets snow, but not everywhere?” asks Erril.

“Our biosphere is really diverse,” says Steve. “In some parts of the planet it snows year-round, but some parts don’t ever see snow. We’re from an area that doesn’t usually get snow.”

“Fascinating,” says Erril.

“Yeah, we’re kinda space Australia,” says Toby proudly, even though for all they know they really aren’t space Australia. Actually, Steve is pretty sure they aren’t, based on everything he’s read up in the galactic databases Aja made the mistake of giving him unlimited access to.

They leave the hall into the cold again. Douxie casts a shield spell. Erril looks interested but doesn’t ask, which may be for the best. Steve certainly doesn’t know how to explain magic to aliens. He adds his own shield spell to take some of the load off Douxie, since he’s also doing the language spell. The last thing they need is Douxie passing out again. It would probably scare their hosts.

“It is currently one of the warmer seasons of the year,” says Erril.

“This is warmer?” says Toby.

Erill chuckles. “We are a cold planet. Farther from our sun than many habitable worlds.”

“We’re one AU from our sun, approximately,” says Steve matter-of-factly. Erril gives him a confused look, and he suddenly feels very stupid. “Oh, duh, you guys wouldn’t use AUs. Those are _based_ on the distance between Earth and the sun.”

“Fascinating,” says Erril. “The rest of the galaxy tends to measure shorter distances in standardised light-mekrons.”

“Aren’t mekrons Akiridion?” asks Toby.

Erril laughs. “No, no, although from what I know Akiridion-5 is a unique case. Their planet is artificial in that it was created by a Celestial, so its time measurements follow the galactic standard.”

“Huh,” says Steve. He hadn’t known that, even though he’s done a ton of research on Akiridion-5. It makes sense, if the galaxy has had a standard that long, that Gaylen would create Akiridion-5 in such a precise way. It probably makes life much easier when your year is the same length as the standardised year the galaxy uses. That might also explain why those words never seem to get translated.

“Give me a second,” says Steve, trying to do the math in his head.

“Steve, we don’t need to know how many light-mekrons Earth is from the sun,” Toby says.

He’ll figure it out later, if only because it will bug him if he doesn’t. Erril smiles and gestures to the city. “This was not originally what the capital looked like, but hundreds of years ago the city that once stood here was razed to the ground by a vengeful warlord who had captured our queen.”

Steve first registers the use of the word years here – something different than keltons, then – before registering the rest and wincing. Erril catches his expression.

“It was a long time ago,” Erril assures him. “We rebuilt in the same spot. The ruins of the palace of old still stand, at the edge of town. They are a place of remembrance, now.”

“That’s pretty cool,” says Steve.

Erril tilts his head. “Everything is cool here.”

Yeah, okay, Steve should have seen that coming. Some things don’t translate well. “It’s fascinating.”

“Ah, yes,” says Erril. “History can be very… cool.”

Douxie nods with a small, very fake smile. The look in his eyes promises murder if they have to listen to a history lecture, which is kind of ironic because half the things Mort says are history lectures in some way.

Steve’s attention is drawn away at a glimpse of movement down a street nearby. It takes him a moment to make out four eyes blinking at him amidst the whiteness, then a second more to recognise the eyes’ owner. He wanders over to it – her, he thinks it’s a her, he’s not sure why – and offers his hand.

“Hey, there, puppy,” he says softly as the dog-looking extra-terrestrial sniffs his hand. She butts her head against his palm and he scratches behind her ears, crouching to her level. She’s a little smaller than an average lab back home, and a whole lot fluffier, with a lion-like mane of white fur and a curled, poofy tail. “Aren’t you just a cutie?”

“I see you’ve found one of the strays,” says Erril.

“She’s adorable,” says Steve. The dog – yes, Steve is just going to call her a dog – lets out a happy yip and wags her tail. “Aren’t you a friendly girl? Aren’t you? What a good girl!”

Erril laughs. “Come along. Much of the city to see.”

Steve gives the dog’s mane one last ruffle. “Bye, pup.”

He stands and re-joins his friends. Erril gestures for them to follow him. He starts talking about the neighbourhood around the governors’ hall, but Steve finds his mind wandering. Douxie has his hands shoved in his pockets and his face carefully blank. Toby kicks at the snow as they walk.

“I can see you’re not that interested in the history of Isbolti,” he says. The three of them shrink. Erril laughs. “Don’t worry. You remind me of my son. I can show you back to the hall and your rooms for the night. You are not here to sight-see.”

“Thanks,” says Douxie.

Erril leads them back to the governor’s house in relative silence, although he still offers them a fact or two here and there. Douxie’s mask of politeness is fading as he grows more tired, and Steve resolves to find a way to make him sleep as soon as they reach their rooms. They pass by another guard, who looks confused until Erril makes a subtle gesture towards Douxie. Even aliens can tell Douxie needs sleep.

“Here are your rooms,” says Erril. “We hope they are to your liking. Should you need anything, do not hesitate to call.”

He bows low, then disappears down the hall. Toby and Steve make eye contact and nod to each other, then Steve takes one of Douxie’s arms and Toby opens the door so he can lead him in. Douxie follows grudgingly and even sits on the bed.

“Okay, we need to start planning,” he says immediately as Toby closes the door.

“Ah! Wrong!” Toby exclaims. “It’s time for you to take a nap until dinner.”

“Haha, we don’t have time for that,” Douxie says flatly.

“Haha,” Steve mimics, “yes, we do.”

“We have work to do!” Douxie protests. “We should probably leave after dinner.”

“They told us to stay the night,” Toby points

“We’re all stressed,” says Steve, “but it’s even more reason for you to sleep.”

Douxie gives him murder-eyes. Steve stares evenly back at him. He’s not above hitting Douxie with a sleeping spell. He’s done it before, to Douxie and to Krel. It’s astonishing how alike they can be, and Steve knows it drives Mort up the walls.

“Fine,” he says, which is his way of saying he’ll pretend to do what they ask while actually not.

Steve sighs. “Okay, well, Toby and I are gonna go check out our rooms. Nap or not. I don’t really care. But you will be sleeping tonight.”

Douxie rolls his eyes. Has Steve mentioned this feels like what he thinks parenting must be like? He holds his tongue so he doesn’t snap something about Douxie acting like a child, because he knows Douxie wouldn’t take that well at all. It’s not fair to him, anyway. He’s just dealing with the stress in his own, stupid way.

He and Toby leave Douxie alone – to stew, probably – and split up at the other two doors that had been shown to them. Steve flops down on his bed and covers his eyes with an arm. God, he hopes Denerix actually can help them. If this is another dead-end, there’s no way they’re going to find Krel.

Something cold nudges his elbow. He turns his head to make eye contact with the dog from before. They stare at each other for a long moment before Steve sits up and she leaps onto the bed and curls up next to him.

“How did you get in here?” Steve asks. She lays her head on his leg and looks up at him with big brown eyes. “Did you follow me in here?”

She blinks at him. Steve laughs and gently pets her head.

“Well, alright, then,” he says. “You can hang out here. I’m gonna take a nap. Because I’m smarter than my cousin. He’s the short one with the blue hair. Big dummy.”

She blinks again. Steve has no idea how much she can understand, but Earth dogs can be pretty clever so he chooses to believe she can totally understand him. He yawns and lies down, and the dog hops up, spins around, and lays down next to him again. Steve laughs and pats her, before closing his eyes and easily drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Steve wakes up to barking and knocking on the door. He rubs his eyes and blinks the grogginess away before swinging out of bed and gently shushing the dog. It’s Erril at the door. He seems more surprised than Steve was about the dog’s presence. For some reason, Steve realises it would have surprised him more if she didn’t show up.

“She’s fine,” he says before Erril can say anything. “Is it dinner already?”

“It is,” says Erril. “I was sent to gather you and your friends.”

“Thanks,” says Steve. “I’ll grab them. Toby’s probably sleeping, too. Douxie’s probably brooding.”

“He’s not very cheerful, is he?” asks Erril. Steve raises an eyebrow and Erril winces. “Forgive me. I wouldn’t be cheerful after losing a brother either.”

“I’m sorry about him,” says Steve. “Please don’t take it as an insult.”

“Do not worry,” says Erril. “We understand the stress you must be under.”

Steve nods gratefully to him, then leaves his room and knocks first on Toby’s door. A few seconds later a groggy Toby opens it. He understands without Steve saying anything that it’s dinner time. Steve goes next to Douxie’s door and knocks. When there’s no response, he opens it. To his lack of surprise, Douxie is still wide-awake, pouring over a hologram of a ship that Steve has no idea where he got.

“Oh, hello, Steve,” says Douxie absently. “I asked someone and they said this is the most likely model of Isavox’s ship.”

“Isa-who?”

“Isavox.” Douxie shoots him an irritated look. “The guy who took Krel. Remember?”

“Oh, right,” says Steve. “Well, it’s dinnertime.”

“I’ll eat later,” says Douxie. “I’m trying to make a game plan.”

“No, you’ll eat now, because you may be willing to ghost your dad but you’re not ghosting the king of another planet,” says Steve. The dog – should Steve name the dog? – pads into the room then leaps onto the bed beside Douxie, who yelps and falls backwards _off_ the bed.

“Ow,” he mumbles, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Is that that dog from earlier?”

“She found my room,” says Steve. “Anyway. Dinner. Come on. You already look enough like shit without not eating, too.”

The dog barks her agreement.

“See? She agrees.” Steve nods to the dog and she wags her tail. “Thank you, pup. Now come on.”

Douxie grumbles under his breath but plasters on his polite mask and follows Steve into the hall, giving Erril a weak smile and waving to Toby. Toby gives him an unimpressed look.

“Follow me,” says Erril.

The dining hall is fairly close to the rooms they’re staying in. Erril directs them to three seats next to the head of the table, where Denerix already sits. They take their seats awkwardly. Steve technically has plenty of experience eating with royalty. Steve _technically_ is royalty. It’s a lot different when the royalty you’re eating with is a near-stranger whose customs you know nothing of.

“We hope you find the meal satisfying,” says Denerix with a warm smile.

“It looks delicious,” Steve says. “Thank you.”

Toby and Douxie both echo him. The meal doesn’t look much like anything Steve has seen before, on Earth or on Akiridion-5: some sort of goopy blue stuff that could be poorly made mashed potatoes, what seems to be a kind of meat, and green and purple root vegetables. Probably. A small bite of the goop reveals it at least tastes good. Douxie prods at his vegetables with a fork. Toby starts cutting his meat.

“The so-called knockout gas you spoke of is a chemical gas emitted naturally in caverns around our planet,” says Denerix without preamble. Douxie’s head shoots up to look at him, food forgotten. Steve politely keeps eating. “It is often used here in medicine, in very small doses, as an anaesthetic. From what I know, Isavox tends to use higher doses. Enough to knock out his bounties for long enough to get them far away from their homes.”

“Is there a way to track it?” asks Douxie.

“We will provide you with a sample,” says Denerix. “I would ask you try not to harm Isavox too badly. If you could… convince him to return.”

“We can try,” says Toby. “But, uh – why? No offence. You don’t have to answer that.”

Denerix chuckles. “At ease. Isavox has hurt the galaxy enough, and I would agree that he probably should be imprisoned for his crimes. But he is still my younger brother.”

Toby and Steve exchange surprised looks. Douxie lowers his eyes.

“I understand,” he says.

“I thought you might,” says Denerix. “We will happily provide you with some supplies for your journey. The sample should be enough to track him from, but if not we will try to aid you again.”

“We really appreciate it,” says Steve. “You’ve given us more help than we ever expected. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

“I give this aid as one elder brother to another.” Denerix locks eyes with Douxie. “I pray you find him unharmed and alive. And I am sorry for the pain my family has caused yours.”

“You can’t control the actions of your brother,” says Douxie softly, “but thank you.”

Denerix smiles, then turns to the rest of them. “Please, eat, eat! You will need your strength. We will also serve you a meal in the morning. I hope you found your rooms to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you,” says Toby. “The beds are very comfortable. We appreciate it.”

He gives a pointed look to Douxie, who studiously begins cutting his meat. Steve sighs and returns his attention to his own food. Part of him wants to be the same as Douxie – pull a few all-nighters, focus on finding Krel – but it won’t do any good. Douxie will get it through his head when he passes out again, probably. That’s very typical. Krel does the same thing during finals week. He just really hopes Douxie manages to pass out in a bed this time.

If Douxie slept at all last night, he doesn’t show it. The amount of energy he has is surprising until Steve gets Erril to confess to sneaking Douxie some sort of Isboltian energy drink. Great, so Steve and Toby will have to deal with that crash, lovely.

True to his word, Governor Denerix provides them with ample supplies, a small sample of the knock-out gas, and good luck wishes. The townspeople gather to watch them leave – they don’t get many ships, so it must be quite the spectacle. Steve is very, very careful taking off.

After they’ve cleared the Ertrian system, Steve sets the ship to auto-pilot for a little bit so he can go organise their new supplies. Douxie is still trying to figure out a plan based on the ship layout he was given, and Toby has been running scans of the knock-out gas, so it’s Steve’s job to deal with the supplies. It’s really lucky they were given this. They’d almost been out of the food they’d bought previously, and none of them have _that_ many crestons.

He finishes putting the last of it away, brushes his hands off on his jeans, and turns around. The dog sits in the doorway, panting lightly and staring at him. Her tail thumps on the dark floor as they make eye contact.

Steve rubs his eyes. Nope. The dog is still there.

“You little sneak,” he says, a laugh slipping loose as the dog hops up and bounds to him. He ruffles the fur behind her ears with a grin. “You followed me onto the ship!”

She licks his face. Steve laughs again.

“Okay, okay, you can come with us,” he says, because how could he possibly say no to such a cute face? “But don’t tell Douxie! He’s a cat person!”

The dog barks.

“No, shh, shh, shh,” Steve says quickly. “ _Don’t_ tell Douxie. Okay? Great. Good girl.”

She licks his face again. Steve beams and scratches her neck. He doesn’t see anything wrong with bringing her along, especially when she’s proven herself to be very clever. She’s the one that wanted to come. And besides – Steve has always wanted a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Junie! You finally get to meet Junie!!! Fun fact, she's named after my first dog! Gotta love space puppies.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!!! <3 As always, thanks so much for reading!


	6. Light-Speed Chase

They end up taking two separate approaches to trying to track Krel this time, as before combining spells with tech to broaden the range. It’s hard to know if it’s pure luck or Krel planning ahead that’s allowing the magic to work so well with the tech, since there have been some interesting disasters over the years combining magic and tech. Steve was able to get a good enough read on Isboltian auras that they can use a spell to track for Isboltian life-forms, and then they’ll also be tracking the knock-out gas itself. If they find a hit for both, bam! They’ve found Krel. Hopefully. Toby can’t do much but watch them cast the spells, keeping an eye on both of them because neither of them have been sleeping well.

The casting goes smoothly. Steve draws an intricate golden rune in mid-air in front of him, casting with his whole body, leaning forward with big arm gestures as he moves the fiery magic around. Douxie, across from him, paints his own rune, magic flowing like water in the air, smooth and subdued compared to Steve, almost musical. Unlike the last five hundred tracking spells, they get pings almost right away. Toby rockets out of his seat and runs over to join Douxie and Steve at the holographic map. The two spells overlap at one moving point. Douxie reaches out and selects it, looking remarkably like Krel by his expression and body language. Five years of living together and they’ve both really rubbed off on each other.

“We’ve got him,” he says, both grim and triumphant at once.

Steve inputs something into the dashboard he has pulled up. “Locked on. It’s good luck we won’t need wormhole tech to catch up, or else we’d be screwed.”

“Well, now that you’ve said that,” says Toby.

“Oh, shut up,” says Steve.

“We don’t know what shape Krel will be in when we find him,” says Douxie. “We have to assume he’s unconscious because it’s Krel, so we need to be able to fight our way out and protect him at the same time.”

“Relax, Doux,” Steve says, clapping a hand on Douxie’s shoulder with an easy smile. “If there’s one thing Steve Palchuk is good at, it’s protection.”

“So you’re not good at anything, right,” teases Toby.

Steve brings his hand to his chest, clearly insulted. “Excuse you, I am a great protector.”

“How come we always lose at laser tag then?”

“Because we play against Krel, and I live with him, and I like my hair _blond_ , thank you.”

“Okay,” Toby admits, because Krel has a tendency for petty revenge and ample access to hair dye, “that’s valid.”

“I’m setting the ship to autopilot us most of the way, then I’ll take over manual when we get closer,” says Steve. He presses a few buttons and the map disappears. At least they have a lead now. Toby hopes it’s the right one. If they find Isavox but not Krel – then either they’re too late or they have the wrong guy, and neither of those are good options. “Douxie is right. We’ll need to be ready for anything.”

Toby twirls his de-activated war-hammer in a hand. “We will be.”

He means it, too. He’s been preparing himself for every worst-case scenario since they woke up at the cabin and found Krel missing. No matter what happens, they’re bringing Krel home – hopefully healthy and whole, but if that’s not the case, Toby is ready.

Steve claps his hands together and smiles widely. “Great! So, are we done here, ‘cause I’ve got – I’ve got some things I need to – I’m gonna go!”

Douxie and Toby exchange dubious looks. What is _that_ about? Steve keeps smiling at them as he walks backwards to the door, only spinning around to put his hand to the sensor and open it. Toby is ready to chalk it up to Steve being, well, _Steve_ , when a blur of white fur barrels him over and starts licking his face.

Okay. That’s new.

“Is that a dog?” says Douxie blankly. Toby can practically see the error code in his brain. A dog is unexpected. From Isbolti, definitely, because no Earth dogs have four eyes like that. Actually, hadn’t they run into a dog there? Did Steve bring it with them? Yeah, that tracks. Toby should have expected that.

“Junie!” Steve yelps with a laugh. “I told you not to come in here!”

“You named her Junie?” Toby says.

“Junie is a great name! She looks like a Junie!”

“Alright, can’t argue that,” admits Toby.

“Why is there a dog on the ship?” Douxie asks.

“She wanted to come.” Steve pushes Junie off him and sits up, ruffling her mane and grinning. “Didn’t you? Didn’t you? What a good girl!”

Douxie still doesn’t seem to get it. He stares as if he’s convinced Junie is a sleep-deprivation-induced hallucination, which, to be fair, would be a reasonable conclusion if it weren’t for the fact that Toby and Steve see her too. “You snuck a dog onto the ship?”

“I didn’t sneak her on,” says Steve. “Junie snuck herself on.”

“ _She’s a dog, Steve_ ,” says Douxie in disbelief.

“She’s a clever dog!”

“She is an extra-terrestrial dog,” Toby points out. “She might be just as intelligent as us.”

“Earth dogs are plenty smart,” says Steve.

“You know what I mean,” Toby says.

“Well, it’s too late now to return her,” grumbles Douxie. He points at Steve. “She’s _your_ responsibility.”

“I know how having a dog works, Doux.” Steve rolls his eyes and pats Junie on the head. “Relax. She’s a good girl. Aren’t you? Aren’t you a good girl?”

Toby hides a laugh. Steve is a dog person – he volunteers at local shelters all the time, both for community service for clubs and for fun, and he somehow always ends up covered in puppies every time Toby is there too. It’s kind of adorable. Toby has, like, hundreds of pictures of Steve and puppies on his phone. And dozens of videos. It’s honestly surprising that Steve didn’t already have a dog, so it comes as no surprise that Steve’s decided to adopt a space dog.

Douxie rubs his forehead and walks back to the controls, leaning on the dashboard and scanning the information pulled up. “We’ll be there in a few hours. Do whatever you need to do in the meantime, but we should all be here when we find them.”

“You got it,” says Steve, standing and gently nudging Junie towards the door. He points accusingly at Douxie. “ _Sleep_.”

“Haha, nope,” says Douxie.

“Douxie–”

Toby rolls his eyes and takes Steve’s arm before this can turn sour again. “Come on, Steve. It’s not worth it right now. Spar?”

“Yeah,” says Steve, voice as conflicted as his facial expression. Douxie does not turn around. “Let’s go spar.”

Their “spar” ends up being more or less them taking out their stress on helpless dummies. There’s one off to the side that’s pretty thoroughly toasted already, which tells Toby Douxie’s had the same idea before. It really does help. Toby has kept fighting fit the past few years just in case something went down, and he knows Steve has too. Their luck has been suspiciously good and it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. It would have been nice if it had been something on Earth, and, better yet, if it had waited until after they all graduated. Toby can only hope they’ll get home in time for the start of spring semester. He has some cool classes lined up!

Toby ends up taking a nap between his and Steve’s spar session and catching up to Isa-whatever. It’s not exactly a restless nap. He ends up having a nightmare about the shop burning down again, which is a pretty recurring one, except it morphs into Toby being the one holding the match. That would be his typical self-blame talking. He reminds himself there was no way he could have prevented this. Still, at least he got some sleep. He’s not sure if Steve takes a nap too and he _knows_ Douxie doesn’t. He’s setting himself up to crash and burn. It’s not going to help anyone, but Toby doesn’t know how to knock sense into him. He’s worse than Jim during finals week and _that’s_ saying something. 

They gather again in the cockpit. Junie sits obediently in the back, tail wagging. She’s a shockingly well-behaved dog for having previously been a stray. Nana’s cats are far less behaved, especially the new extra-terrestrial cat Varvatos got her when she moved to Akiridion-5. It doesn’t like him. It _really_ doesn’t like him.

They’ve almost caught up to Isavox, which means they’ve hopefully almost caught up to Krel. Toby takes his seat, glancing sideways out the window to the stars flying by. Yeah, it’s still a bit crazy to think about, being in space. He isn’t sure he likes it. Steve starts preparing the dashboard so he can take back manual control. Douxie paces.

“Okay, I’ve been figuring out what to do,” he says, “and I think I have a plan.”

“Great, lay It on us,” says Toby. This oughta be good.

“We demand he hand Krel over to us,” says Douxie, “and if he won’t, we tell him we’ll be forced to resort to extreme measures.”

Yep. Toby called it. Steve spins his chair around, brows lowered. “Uh, what extreme measures? There aren’t any weapons on the ship.”

Douxie gives him a sheepish smile and finger-guns. “That’s why it’s a bluff.”

“And when he calls our bluff?”

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

“That’s a horrible plan,” says Toby. “We’ve had bad plans in the past, but, like, that’s barely a plan.”

“I don’t work well under pressure,” says Douxie.

“No kidding.” Steve shakes his head and spins back around, grumbling under his breath. “Right, okay, so when this backfires _spectacularly_ –”

“It won’t if you don’t jinx it!” Douxie protests.

“That’s absolutely not how plans work,” Toby says flatly.

“Okay, okay, we’ll figure it out, Tobes,” says Steve. “I’m going to bring us into eyesight of Isavox’s ship and open a line of communication. From there, Doux, bluff away. When that inevitably fails, we’ll probably have to give chase, or maybe find a way to dock secretly. Maybe we should plan more.”

“The longer Krel’s with that guy the more danger he’s in,” says Douxie. “No time.”

“Didn’t we have a talk about listening to us?” Toby asks. Douxie opens his mouth to respond, then shrinks back in his seat, properly abashed. Toby gets it, he does, they don’t know what state Krel will be in and it’s scary. It’s clear Douxie needs to do this, for himself, and despite everything, Toby has faith they can rescue Krel. Douxie just has a lot to learn about handling stress, that’s all.

“Alright, business faces,” says Steve. “We’re coming in hot.”

Douxie stands and walks forward. Toby does as well. The stabilisation of the ship is pretty remarkable. Krel did a great job, but then again, it’s Krel. When he’s not recklessly experimenting, the things he makes turn out both safe and amazing. Isavox’s ship – what they _hope_ is Isavox’s ship – is clearly visible among the stars. Steve pulls up another screen and then the image of an outgoing phone call pops up. Heh, nice human touch.

A blank-faced Isboltian answers. His face drops in surprised before twisting into a smirk at the sight of them. Toby hates it when the bad guys smirk. Smug bastards. He thinks he’s already winning and the fight’s barely begun.

“Earth natives,” he says, tone almost impressed. “The Celestial wasn’t delusional. You got off-planet and found us.”

“We’ll lay out our terms,” says Douxie firmly. “You will give us back our friend, or we will have to resort to extreme measures.”

“Extreme measures?” repeats Isavox. He looks amused, which is _not_ a good sign. “ _What_ extreme measures? That hobbling piece of junk looks like it couldn’t survive atmosphere re-entry, let alone mid-space combat.”

“Very extreme measures,” Douxie promises. He’s terrible at bluffing. He proves it every year with Secret Santa. Toby masks his exasperation and tries not to literally face-palm. “I don’t know if you have magic where you’re from, but we do.”

“Nice try, kid,” says Isavox. “I’m getting paid good money to deliver the Celestial to my client. No deal.”

He hangs up. The screen goes blank and silent. As predicted, that went terribly, so it’s back to the drawing board. Douxie’s face darkens, his brow furrowing and lips twisting into a deep frown. Oh, that’s never a good face on any of Toby’s friends.

“Kay,” Douxie says. “Plan B.”

“Douxie, we don’t have a plan B,” says Steve.

“We’re gonna ram him.”

“We’re gonna – _no, we are not_!”

Douxie wrests the controls away from Steve and shoots them forward. Toby yelps as he’s jerked backwards in his seat like he’s on a rollercoaster. Isavox’s ship picks up speed as well – _great_ , a high-speed chase in _space_. That’s just what they need.

“No, no, you don’t!” Douxie yells.

“Douxie, give me the controls!” Steve exclaims.

Douxie ignores him. He makes a turn – the wrong direction – so quickly yanks the controls back in the other direction. Steve screams as he and Toby are both thrown to the floor. Douxie roots himself in place with magic.

“Douxie!” Steve snaps as they both start pushing themselves back up to sitting positions at least. Apparently mid-flight stabilisation doesn’t stand up to Douxie’s reckless flying. A glance out the window tells him things are about to get worse.

“Asteroid field, _asteroid field_!” Toby yells. Douxie sets his face in a snarl and lets go of the controls long enough to send a large, magical shield around the ship. Is _this_ his plan? Barrel through a bunch of asteroids with a shield that could fail at any time with Douxie’s state and hope for the best!? He’s crazy. He’s actually crazy and he’s going to get them all killed.

“Nope,” says Steve, ever the space nerd, “it's gotta be something else – asteroid fields are way more spaced out than – holy shit, Douxie, what are you _doing_!?"

“Saving my little brother!”

“ _Hisirdoux, give me the fucking controls_!”

Toby shrieks again and points out the window. “SPACE ROCK, SPACE ROCK, _SPACE ROCK_!”

The whole ship jerks as they hit the rock, the shield outside flickering and Douxie grunting and tightening his grip on the controls, yanking them to the right and away from the rock. Toby manages to pull himself back into his seat and strap in. Steve pulls himself to his feet and, like Douxie, roots himself in place with magic. He pulls several things up on the dashboard, then slams the palm of his hand down on a button.

“Activate automatic debris navigation!” he roars. The screens flash red, and the controls lock. Douxie tries stubbornly to keep moving them, but it’s no use. They’re navigated much more smoothly out of the debris field. Toby relaxes in his seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Steve scrolls through a few more screens – damage reports, judging by the look of them, but since there’s no flashing red or anything on the screen, there doesn’t seem to be any damage thanks to Douxie’s shield. Steve lets out a long breath, then whirls on Douxie.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” he snaps.

“We almost had him!” Douxie exclaims.

“No, we didn’t, we almost _died_!” Steve gestures violently at the debris field they narrowly escaped. “You almost got us killed!”

“I – I didn’t – I was just thinking–”

“No, you weren’t thinking,” Steve says sharply. “This is why we need a real plan, not some half-thought-out bullshit from a sleep-deprived dumbass!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” says Toby quickly, standing and putting his hands out in a placating gesture. With Douxie being so sleep-deprived and an emotional guy in general, if Steve keeps yelling at him, he’ll probably burst into tears. “Look, this is a lot, none of us work well under pressure. Or with no sleep. Which means Douxie needs to sleep and Steve and I will start figuring something else out.”

“But–”

“Ah! No buts,” says Toby. “You look dead on your feet. What did we say about listening?”

Douxie’s shoulders slump. His shield outside has dropped and he looks like he’s going to do the same thing at any moment. Steve’s anger fades and he puts a hand on Douxie’s arm.

“We’ll wake you if anything happens,” he says softly. “Sleep, Douxie. You need it.”

“You’ll wake me?” says Douxie. He glances between them, golden eyes shining with anxiety.

“We’ll wake you.” Toby smiles at him and pats his shoulder. Douxie nods, then reluctantly leaves the cockpit, stopping briefly to pet a cheerful Junie before he does. As soon as the door closes behind him, Steve sighs and all but collapses into his seat.

“Well, that went _swell_ ,” he says.

“Swell is definitely one word for it,” mumbles Toby. “What now?”

“We’re still locked on,” says Steve. “And at least I’m ninety percent sure that guy _has_ Krel right now. We need to make sure we get Krel before he hands him off to his client.”

Toby crosses his arms and purses his lips. Trying to negotiate probably won’t work, and Toby doesn’t think they’re skilled enough to dock to a moving ship, if they can even dock to that ship in the first place. It was pretty much the same size as theirs and based on what Toby’s seen in sci-fi movies, the other ship’s got to be bigger. They don’t have weapons and even if they did, damaging Isavox’s ship risks injuring Krel. One wrong move and they lose.

“Or do we?” he mumbles.

Steve looks at him like he’s crazy. “ _Yes_. Yes, do we. I mean, we do.”

“No, no, no, hear me out,” says Toby. “There’s no way we’re gonna get him while Isavox is still flying.”

Steve pulls back his hair like he’s going to put it in a pony-tail and nods pensively. “You’re not wrong. Best case scenario he escapes again, worse case scenario we hurt Krel.”

He claps his hands together and points them at Steve. “Right. So – there’s gotta be a rendezvous point.”

“And that would probably be somewhere he has to land,” Steve says slowly, easily catching on to Toby’s thought process. “So we sneak in _there_ , before the handoff, and rescue Krel.”

“Exactly!” Toby exclaims. “Ideally before this client guy even shows up. We get Krel, get out, and get to Akiridion-5.”

“Getting to Akiridion-5 is gonna actually involve calling someone to pick us up,” Steve says. “Unless you want to be flying a solid couple of days straight.”

“Eh, what’s a couple more days?” Toby scans the map, the glowing dot that represents Isavox and more importantly Krel. “We’ve been out here plenty long. But we’ll see. If Krel is hurt we’ll definitely want to get there fast.”

“It’s definitely a plan,” says Steve. “A better plan than Douxie’s, anyway. Alright. We’ll run it by wonder-wizard and give it a shot.”

“Hope it works,” mumbles Toby. “It’ll be our only shot.”

Steve walks over to one of the side windows and leans against it, eyes on the stars around them. Toby joins him. It’s strange how space can simultaneously look so empty and so very full, hundreds of thousands of little glowing dots that all might hold life, people just like him and Steve and Douxie. It makes him feel lonely.

“Wonder if one of those stars is the sun,” says Toby softly. “Our sun, I mean.”

Steve clicks his tongue unsurely. “Probably. I’d have to check to see which direction, but from here I’m pretty sure we’d be able to see it.”

“I miss it already,” Toby murmurs.

“I don’t,” Steve admits. Toby glances at him in surprise. “I mean, I _do_. I do. But like – not like I thought I would. Y’know?”

“Well, you are a space geek,” Toby teases.

Steve laughs lightly. “Guess so. I just – I dunno, I feel like I should be more homesick. It’s hard to explain.”

“It’s good you’re not, right?” says Toby. “You were planning to move to Akiridion-5.”

Steve shrugs. “I mean. Maybe.”

“You are dating the queen.”

“Yeah, I just – I dunno. I’ll figure it out.”

Toby claps him on the shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Sure you will! You’re Steve Palchuk, heir of King Arthur, slayer of Merlin! You’ll figure it out.”

Steve doesn’t look as comforted by this as Toby meant for him to be. Whoops, great going, Domzalski. Still, he gives Toby a smile and nods. “Yeah, eventually. I think I’m gonna take a nap, too. Wake me if something happens?”

“You got it,” says Toby.

Steve smiles at him, then pats his leg to call Junie to him as he leaves the cockpit. Toby goes to sit down in the pilot’s chair, absently watching the glowing dot as it moves. The ship is on autopilot and won’t stray too close, lest Isavox notice them and attack. Then they’d be pretty screwed. He hopes Krel is doing okay, not too hurt or anything. He hopes he’ll be able to help. It didn’t matter much the past few years, being one of the few totally mundane humans in the friend group, but now that the danger is back, Toby’s old insecurities are rearing their ugly heads. Steve and Douxie are both incredible with magic. Toby has a big hammer. Not the most intimidating of the lot.

He pulls out his phone to check his texts. More from Mort. Toby’s not touching that. That is Douxie’s problem. A few in his Trollhunters group chat – Jim and Claire and Blinky and Aaarrrgghh!!!. These he does open. They’re just checking in, so he updates them on the situation. Check-ins from Darci as well, which he answers because he’s not keeping his girlfriend out of the loop. A couple from Varvatos and Nana, in all caps because Varvatos has to yell even in text most of the time. Toby updates them too, being sure to add for them not to worry, they’d be headed to Akiridion-5 soon. He knocks lightly on the dashboard in lieu of wood.

God, Toby didn’t miss this. He wants to go _home_ where it’s safe, where things had finally calmed down, where they’d been living normal, happy lives. He’s never felt so small in his life, staring out into the endless abyss of space in an experimental ship with one of his best friends’ lives in danger. He doesn’t even know where home _is_. In fact, he doesn’t even know if they can actually _see_ home from here. If all goes well, they can return soon. Do things ever go well? Toby prays their luck has changed.

He can’t wait to go home.

Toby is half-asleep when something does happen, absently making up constellations in the ever-changing stars out the window. On the upside, something happening isn’t them getting shot at, which was Toby’s biggest worry, but rather Junie barrelling into the room barking. He startles so badly he falls out of the chair and Junie runs over and starts tugging on his sleeve. Clever dog, to figure that one out so fast.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says, pulling himself to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

Junie jerks her head towards the door and bounds to it, waiting for him. When she’s content he’s following, she takes off out of the cockpit and leads him to the sleeping quarters. It’s immediately obvious something is very wrong, considering Douxie is screaming. It’s never a good sign when someone is screaming in their sleep. It’s an especially bad sign when _Douxie_ is screaming in his sleep.

“I can’t wake him!” Steve exclaims.

“Nightmare or vision?” Toby asks.

“No clue,” says Steve, shoulders tense as he kneels beside a thrashing Douxie’s bed. This is exactly why Douxie isn’t ever allowed a top bunk or a lofted bed – vision or not, his dreams can get violent, and he’s fallen out of bed more than once.

Junie whines and lays down next to Steve, head on his leg, staring up at Douxie with four scared eyes. Steve curls a hand in her mane absently. They’ve all had their fair share of nightmares, but the violent ones like this never get easier to witness. The one during his nap earlier wasn’t a fluke caused by stress, Toby still has them more often than he’d like – what if they weren’t able to save Jim? what if Krel had died in that fire? what if they had lost? – but they’ve been getting better with time. He’s scared this rescue won’t be so simple, and he’ll have a whole new slew of nightmares to deal with. He knows this is why Douxie has been avoiding sleep.

Finally, Douxie shoots up with a strangled gasp, face wet with tears. He turns to them with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing and forming syllables like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how to start.

“Douxie?” Steve says carefully.

“Vision,” Douxie breathes, horror frosting over his voice. “It was a vision.”

Steve and Toby exchange looks. Junie whines.

“Yeah,” says Toby softly, “that’s what we were afraid you’d say.”

“Let’s get you something to eat and then you can tell us what you saw,’ says Steve gently. It wasn’t good, whatever it was. The paleness of Douxie’s face and the dread in his eyes is more than enough to tell Toby that whatever they’re about to hear is very bad news. Toby hates bad news.

Toby helps Douxie up. He’s clearly disoriented, his mind everywhere besides the ship. Steve detours to grab some food while Toby leads Douxie to the eating area of the ship and sits him down, sitting next to him and tapping his fingers on the table anxiously. Steve and Junie join them moments later, Steve carrying some sort of Isboltian dessert and setting it in front of them as he sits.

“Scale of one to ten, how bad is it?” Steve asks.

“I saw his core.” Douxie’s voice is almost inaudible, but his words still chill Toby to the bone. There’s not a question of whose core, given Douxie’s expression and the way he wraps his arms around himself.

“You – are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?” says Steve uneasily. “I get those still, about the fire.”

“If I thought it could be a nightmare, I’d be a lot more relaxed right now,” Douxie snaps. “I dunno – these things are usually symbolic. Sometimes they’re not, Eternal Night wasn’t, but usually. And they’re not set in stone.”

“Right,” says Toby. He’s more shaken than he wants to admit. They don’t know Krel won’t be in core form when they rescue him. He supposes wryly it would make him easier to transport, and for all he knows it could be why they couldn’t detect him. Maybe. He shakes his head. “It’s symbolic. Of something.”

“It – I dunno, it was a flash. It could have been Gaylen’s core.” He pulls his knees to his chest and hugs them, brows pulling low and lips twitching into a deeper frown. “It was blurry. There was – a big explosion. Or maybe a supernova. I dunno, we’re in space, both are pretty fair game.”

“Supernovas are pretty easy to avoid,” offers Steve. “And honestly we should anyway.”

“Yeah,” says Douxie. “I – so the explosion. And the core. And I think I saw – this was actually the clearest – you guys and Krel and Uncle Mort and Archie and Alex – all of us? With an orange tinge. I don’t know if that’s important or not – it was blurry, like I said, I always have a hard time with these. Colours can be important though.”

“Explosion, core, us, orange,” lists Toby. “That’s – something?”

“I mean, Krel was with us in the vision,” Steve points out. “Another good sign, right? Right?”

“Exactly,” agrees Toby. “Like you said, maybe the core was symbolic, especially if it really was plain old Gaylen’s core. I mean, we figured this guy wanted Krel because of that, and Isavox calling him the Celestial practically proves it.”

“Rescuing Krel isn’t going to be the end,” whispers Douxie, golden eyes focused on a spot ahead of him, blank and worried. “This client guy – he’s gonna keep coming after Krel.”

“We’ll figure it out,” says Steve. “You’ll see. Everything will be fine. The vision was scary but hey, it’s so vague it could mean anything!”

“Anything, right,” mumbles Douxie.

Steve rests a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

“This is why I haven’t been sleeping.” He doesn’t turn his gaze from the spot in front of him, clearly not looking at the table but at something Toby and Steve can’t see, images from his vision. “If I didn’t sleep, I probably wouldn’t have had a vision. And then I could pretend we could rescue Krel and go back to normal.”

“Hey, hey,” says Toby gently, “we can still go back to normal after this. Just with a few precautions.”

Douxie finally looks up at him and shakes his head. “It won’t be safe.”

“We’ll make it safe,” says Steve. He gently grabs Douxie’s shoulders and turns him to face him. “Hey, look at me. We’ll figure this out. We’ve been through this before.”

“Yeah,” says Douxie, “and people died.”

Steve falters at this. Toby takes over. “And we’ve learned. We’re older, stronger, smarter. We won’t lose anyone this time.”

“You can’t promise that,” says Douxie numbly.

“We won’t lose anyone this time,” Toby repeats, even though Douxie is right. He can’t promise that. “Let’s just focus on saving Krel so we can go home, okay? And everything will go back to normal.”

“No,” says Douxie faintly. He gives Toby that same haunted look, a sheen of glass over gold, freckles dark against the pallor of his face. “Nothing will ever be normal again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🙂
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! I got to play with my old favourite trick: when in doubt, dream sequence. >:) Can't wait to see what y'all think!!! Thanks for reading!


	7. Search and Rescue

Douxie is Stressed. Like, capital S _Stressed_. They almost rescued Krel, they were _this close_ , but he had to go and fuck it all up because he hadn’t been sleeping and he isn’t good at plans and he almost got them all killed. So that’s great. And then, to make matters worse, when Douxie finally sleeps he goes and has a terrifying vision. He’s never hated his future-sight more. He’s trying not to jump to conclusions. His dream could mean anything. He doesn’t always interpret these things right. Not even Uncle Mort does.

On the upside, they have a plan now. A real one. They’ve been following Isavox at a distance for a couple of days now, according to their phones. Uncle Mort is well beyond mad now. Alex is fully exasperated but he luckily understands, even if he’s made it clear this is “the worst decision Douxie has ever made”. Alex has a point, but when has Alex having a point ever stopped Douxie from doing something? They’re _so close_. They won’t mess it up this time.

Based on the ship’s projections, Isavox will be landing on a nearby planet very soon. Scans say the atmosphere is deadly for humans, which is a brief panic until they find spacesuits and Douxie carefully resizes them so they fit. Douxie stretches after putting his own, pleased by the way the helmet doesn’t fog up. Toby twirls his war-hammer around. Steve carefully attaches his sheath for Excalibur on the outside of the suit, using magic to ensure nothing happens to it.

“Okay, we all know the plan?” he asks.

“Sneak aboard as quietly as possible,” says Douxie. “Keep our comms on and split off to look for Krel. First sign of trouble, reconvene so we stand a better chance. Aim to knock out and capture Isavox, not kill.”

“Yep,” says Toby.

“Good,” says Steve. He points at Douxie. “No stupid stunts!”

That’d be more offensive if Douxie hadn’t pulled a record number of stupid stunts since they left Earth. He crosses his arms and nods. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Alright, looks like he’s landing,” says Steve. “Cloaking’s broken, so, Doux, I’m gonna need your help to hide this thing till we land.”

Douxie nods and carefully draws a rune in mid-air. He spreads it around the ship, and a few moments later he feels Steve strengthen it. Toby gestures for him to come sit down as Steve takes the pilot seat again to bring them in. Landing is Douxie’s least favourite part, aside from taking off. He still doesn’t know what he was thinking. He can barely handle airplanes. Why did he think he could handle a spaceship?

“Alright, we can drop the spells now,” says Steve. “I’ve got us pretty hidden by the geography. Everyone’s suit on right?”

“I’ve quadruple-checked mine,” says Toby. Douxie nods and gives him a thumbs-up. He flexes his hands, ready for a fight. It always ends with a fight, and after his vision he knows he has to be ready for the worst. Some visions are avoidable. Some aren’t. He hopes this one is one from the first category.

Their first steps onto this planet are more intimidating, knowing if something goes wrong with their suits they’re all super dead. They have to hope Krel will be fine – Steve checked and said Akiridions should be fine and Celestials are usually closer to Akiridions than humans, so they’re just going to have to rely on that.

Douxie casts an invisibility spell over them as they creep towards the enemy ship. They landed a bit away to avoid any attention being drawn by their arrival, so it’s more of a walk than Douxie might prefer. It’s hot on this planet even with the suits on, and the atmosphere is a choking orangey-brown. Something scurries across the sand in front of them. The idea that anything can live here is almost frightening, even though Douxie has long since known that scientists were looking for life in the universe all wrong.

“Looks like some sort of apocalypse movie,” mumbles Toby.

“Went from ice planets to desert planet,” says Steve. A gust of wind whirls sand up into a mini twister in front of them that dies down just as quickly as it came. Dark clouds roll across the sky, blocking out the planet’s sun. He would have thought it’d be cooler.

“What the conspiracy theorists wouldn’t do to get a load of this.” Toby eyes another creature a few feet away from them, standing dead still except for slow blinks. It flares some sort of frills as they pass, even though they should be invisible.

“Let’s just hurry,” says Douxie warily. “The sooner we get off this planet, the better.”

It isn’t a much longer walk before they reach the ship. Douxie puts a shield around them as they near, timing the flash of magic with a gust of wind that blows up the sand around them. It’s just a safety precaution, but if there’s one thing Douxie won’t risk again it’s the lives of his friends.

Getting aboard the ship undetected goes shockingly well. No alarms blare. No red lights flash. The ship itself is notably different from their ship and from the mothership, which Douxie supposes makes sense. They get fully into the ship proper before they even think about splitting up, taking careful note of their surroundings. Steve signals something Douxie takes to roughly mean “split up and meet back here”. Douxie nods, then chooses a direction and goes that way, walking quickly but as silent as possible. The halls are confusing and blank-walled, which makes it incredibly hard to navigate. He finally gets to a hallway with doors – took long enough – and he starts peering in each one looking for his brother. He’s probably unconscious. He’s usually unconscious.

He’s so certain he’s looking for Krel in Akiridion form that he almost passes him by when he finds him. He has to do a double-take. It’s Krel alright, slumped against the wall, seemingly out like a light, definitively in human form. His wrists are shackled, and something’s wrong with the left one. There’s dried blood on his chin and what look scarily like bruises on his neck. What has Isavox done to him?

He uses magic to deactivate the energy field between him and his brother. Thankfully, it works the first time. He runs inside and falls to his knees beside Krel, hands hovering but too afraid to touch anywhere for fear of unseen injuries.

“Krel?” he says softly. “Krel, can you hear me?”

Krel, not unconscious after all, blinks up at him, bleary and clearly weak. Is it his injuries or something else? “Doux…ie?”

“We’re getting you out of here,” Douxie assures him. He looks over the shackles. They should actually be easy to get off, not locked with a key or a code or anything. “Let me get these off you.”

Krel’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Wait, don’t–”

Douxie is far too concerned with getting Krel free, so he doesn’t listen, instead undoing the shackles and pulling them off. Unfortunately, he really should have listened to Krel – wow, that’s a _shocker_ – because as soon as they’re off, there’s a half-second of calm before everything explodes. Douxie thinks he might remember hitting the wall, but his last thought before he blacks out is that he hopes this explosion doesn’t lead to the rest of his vision coming true.

“–xie! Douxie! Wake up, come on!”

Douxie groans and bats Krel’s hands away, mumbling something that’s supposed to be “Go away, I have a headache.” but comes out sounding more like “G’way v’eadache.” Krel ignores him and keeps shaking him. It takes him another few seconds to remember where he is and what happened. Isavox’s ship, Krel, the explosions. He shoots into a sitting position, one hand going to his forehead. Krel stares at him worriedly, Akiridion now but still clearly weak. Relief floods him. He’s not in core form. He doesn’t even look that badly injured, his form in one piece and not visibly flaking away.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Am I okay? Are _you_ okay?” Krel shoots back.

“I’m fine! I’m not the one who’s been held captive!” Douxie immediately starts looking him over. His left wrist is definitely broken, and he was right about the bruising on his neck and his forehead. Krel has tried to wipe the dried blood away but he hasn’t done a good job of it. It scares Douxie to think what Isavox might have done to him.

“Been better,” admits Krel.

“What _was_ that?” Douxie asks. His head is still pounding and his shoulder and back ache from hitting the wall. The only thing he can really think is that it could have been a safety feature of the shackles, but in that case Krel would definitely be in worse shape right now.

Krel rubs his uninjured wrist with one of his lower hands. “Aura-suppressing shackles, or so I’m told.”

Douxie’s eyes widen. Aura-suppression is dangerous at best, and the fact that Isavox has the tools to do it is worrying. “That explains why we couldn’t pick up your signature. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” says Krel, which, as usual, is a blatant lie. He looks more tired than if he had pulled several consecutive all-nighters, and his limbs tremble with weakness. The shackles did a number on him. “Where are the others? Don’t tell me you came alone!”

“I didn’t,” Douxie says. “We split up to find you.”

“Isavox can’t be trusted,” says Krel. Douxie gives him a deadpan look, because _duh_. He kidnapped Krel, of course he can’t be trusted. “He might try to trick the others. He fooled me, convinced me he’d take me home and then…”

“You’re too trusting,” Douxie mumbles, gently taking his wrist and splinting it loosely with magic. It isn’t much, but it will help. Giving others the benefit of the doubt is a fine trait to have, a good trait even, but sometimes he thinks Krel takes it too far. He wants there to be good in people. Sometimes there isn’t. And sometimes there _is_ , but it’s far too risky to try to bring that good to the surface.

“We should go find them,” says Krel. “And then we need to get out of here. It’s not a good sign we’ve landed.”

“We think he’s meeting up with–” Douxie’s comms immediately crackle to life. It startles him more because he thinks it could be his phone – which points to a concussion if he’s being fully honest – and if it’s his phone then it’s either Uncle Mort calling to yell at him or Alex calling to yell at him. A second later as he hears Toby yelling a battle cry, he realises that, luckily, it’s just the others. No, wait, not luckily. Battle cry is bad.

“Douxie!” Steve’s shrill voice shrieks through the speaker. “The client dude is here and he has reinforcements and he’s _kicking our asses_!”

“Regroup, regroup!” Toby yells.

“Where are you?” Douxie asks. There’s a scream from Steve. “Actually, never mind, I’ll find you with magic. Hang tight!”

He hangs up and immediately casts a spell to find Steve and Toby. He helps Krel to his feet. There’s no point in asking if he’s up for this. Douxie knows Krel far too well to think the answer could be anything but yes even if it should be no. They take off running down the hall. It’s less running and more stumbling, because Douxie may or may not be concussed and it’s clear the aura-suppression is still affecting Krel. The tracking spell puts them in the right direction, but they can also hear the fight. Krel shakes his head like he’s shaking off water and holds out a hand. A glowing white sword flickers to life. Douxie forms his battle-staff.

Most of the fighters are in indistinct spacesuits with masks on, but it’s the one that’s not that sticks out. He must be the client, the leader, by the way he stands to the side and smiles, eyes sharp under his dark visor.

“An Akiridion?” mumbles Krel. He pulls himself to his full height as he stalks forward and puts on an air of regal firmness he saves for special occasions. The Akiridion’s eyes are drawn to him. He doesn’t look impressed. “Hey! By order of the king-in-waiting of Akiridion-5, I command you and your men to put down your arms and surrender at once!”

The Akiridion’s lips twitch into a smile. God, Douxie hates it when the bad guy smiles like that. Does he really already think he’s won?

“Krel Tarron,” he says. “The last Celestial. It is good to finally meet you.”

“I’d say the same, but I don’t know who you are and you’re attacking my friends,” Krel shoots back.

“Do you remember me?” asks the Akiridion. Krel’s brow furrows. “I thought not. You used to visit my laboratory with your father when you were young. Always such a bright youngling.”

Krel adjusts his grip on his sword. “What do you want?”

“An alliance,” says the Akiridion calmly. “They say you’re different from your parents. If that’s true, then I think we could work very well together.”

Krel’s jaw tightens. His parents are a touchy subject in a lot of ways. Krel doesn’t talk about them often at home, although he’s always very quiet on the anniversary of their deaths. The only time Douxie can remember Krel ever _really_ talking about them was when Mort was asking Krel if he could legally adopt him, if only for Krel to have somewhat forged but otherwise legal documentation on Earth. Otherwise, Krel is pretty much quiet about his parents.

“You paid to have me kidnapped and you’re attacking my friends,” says Krel. “If you wanted an alliance, you should have approached me civilly on Earth.”

“My name is Ultios Galeth.” The Akiridion walks forward calmly, as if Krel had said nothing. The fighting has ceased, for now. Steve wipes blood away from his lips, smearing it across his cheek. Toby presses a hand on a bleeding wound on his upper arm. “I used to live on Satellite-7X. Have you heard of it?”

“It was destroyed in an accident,” says Krel. “One of the greatest tragedies on Akiridion-5 in my lifetime. Hundreds of lives were lost.”

“Its destruction was no accident.” Ultios’s expression darkens as he reaches them. He spreads his hands like a presenter and shakes his head sadly. “I was a scientist, alongside many others. Your parents decided to shut down our project. We made the mistake of arguing with them, trying to explain that they should allow us to continue. You were raised by them, I’m sure you know why this is a mistake.”

Krel’s expression closes off more. If Douxie didn’t know him so well, he wouldn’t have noticed, but it’s clear the implication offends Krel. Douxie doesn’t know much, but he knows Krel’s parents were good to him, if flawed. They had a lot of problems, sure, but they were good parents.

Ultios bows his head, in a way that might be remorseful if Douxie trusted him as far as he could throw him. “Your parents retaliated by destroying Satellite-7X themselves. I had been on Akiridion-5 at the time. I could only watch as my home was shattered. I was sent away, along with any other survivors, any other stains to their reputation.”

“That’s not true.” The waver in Krel’s voice betrays him. “My parents would never do that.”

Ultios watches him evenly. “Wouldn’t they?”

“You said it yourself, Krel isn’t his parents,” Douxie snaps. “Regardless of what they did, _you_ had him kidnapped!”

“I wasn’t sure if he would come willingly, so I had him taken, yes,” says Ultios. He’s frustratingly calm and not nearly enough evil. Douxie liked it better when their enemy was a major asshole on top of everything else. “I apologise for how you were treated, Krel. May I call you that? Isavox was out of line.”

“Out of line?” Douxie gestures to Krel a bit more violently than perhaps is necessary. “It looks like he practically tortured him!”

Ultios gives him a once-over, expression shifting into something unimpressed. “And you are?”

Douxie’s scowl deepens. “I’m his older brother. Back off.”

“Cute,” says Ultios flatly, “but you’re not Akiridion.”

“That doesn’t make him any less family,” Krel says firmly. “ _What_ do you _want_?”

“Like I said. An alliance. You are a scientist, like me.”

“You’ll have to explain better than that.”

“Don’t you want to make the universe a more peaceful place?”

Okay. Major red flags there. Douxie’s eyes narrow. In his peripheral vision he sees Krel’s do the same. It’s never a good sign when someone like this starts touting the more peaceful place bullshit, which is kind of unfortunate because Douxie genuinely would like to make the universe safer. He tightens his grip on his battle-staff. Steve adjusts Excalibur and Toby twirls his war-hammer into a battle-ready position.

“No, thank you,” says Krel. “I’m not interested in allying myself with you, especially without knowing more.”

Ultios’s face falls into a scowl. “Very well. The hard way it is, then.”

Douxie barely has a second to blink before Ultios has activated a serrator and the fight is back on. He steps in front of Krel and throws his staff up to parry Ultios’s attack. He regrets not agreeing to spar with Aja when they visit. He majorly regrets it. Ultios fights way better than Krel and way different than Uncle Mort. Douxie isn’t a _fighter_. He jumps back and tries to sweep Ultios’s feet. Ultios catches his staff and twists it out of his hands. It flies to the side and lands with a clatter.

Douxie catches the next attack with his hands, coated in magic. Surprise shoots across Ultios’s face for a split second. He de-activates the serrator. Douxie narrowly avoids getting skewered by its re-activation when Toby grabs his arm and yanks him backwards.

“We’re getting our asses kicked!” Toby exclaims.

“Gee, hadn’t noticed!”

“This is why we needed a better plan!” Steve shrieks.

“You didn’t have a _plan_!?” Krel shields against a blaster shot and turns to glare at them. “What do you mean, you didn’t have a plan!?”

“We had a plan!” Douxie exclaims. He pulls someone’s feet out from under them with magic. “Get in, get you, get out! It just went wrong!”

“That’s a terrible plan! Where’s Uncle Mort?”

“He’s on Akiridion-5!”

“Why isn’t he _here_!?”

Toby slams his hammer into one guy’s side and sends him flying into the guy fighting Krel. “Douxie didn’t let us tell him you were kidnapped.”

“ _What_!?”

“ _I panicked_!”

“Guys, can we table this for if we _survive_!?” Steve yells.

“Be positive!” Douxie says. “When we survive!”

“No, no, no, _this is an if_!” Toby cries, dodging another blaster shot from who knows who at this point. Douxie throws up a shield to save Krel from an attacker, then has to jump backwards to not die himself. He’s not fast enough, left with a shallow cut on his stomach, but that’s way better than dead.

They’re undeniably losing. Krel’s reaction time is slower than normal, no doubt an effect of the shackles. Douxie’s head is still fuzzy from the blast, and Steve and Toby are stumbling too. They need an advantage and fast.

Douxie has only used dark magic a few times before in his life, and all of them in the past few days looking for Krel. He’s heard enough from Uncle Mort to know better. Dark magic is dangerous. It didn’t help find Krel. But it could help them get out.

Dark magic draws from the energy of life rather than magic. At one point, Douxie thought those were the same, but apparently they’re not. He focuses until he can harness that energy. It’s vaguely uncomfortable like it always is, or maybe just different, but as the shadows extend at his bidding he knows he’s doing it right. He tests it gently, advancing the shadows, letting darkness coil around his hands, using it to catch another attack and crumple the serrator blade. Okay, that’s pretty cool. Slow and steady. It’s easier than he thought, but then again it’s been easier than he though the past few times as well. His ears ring.

Steve goes flying into a wall after shielding a blaster hit and Douxie is snapped back to reality. Okay, no more taking it slow. He throws out his hands. The shadows morph and twist around the metal of the ship. It creaks and snaps and bends upward, trapping their attackers.

Douxie runs to Steve to help him up, letting him throw an arm over his shoulder. “Let’s go, let’s go! Hurry!”

Krel blasts a hole in the wall and the four of them run through. Toby leads the way back to their ship, slamming his hand onto the scanner to let them in. Steve takes the pilot seat as soon as they reach the cockpit.

“Sit down and hold on!” he shouts. Toby clambers into his seat. Douxie makes Krel sit first then realises there’s not any other chairs in the cockpit, so he roots himself to the ground with magic and holds on to the back of Krel’s chair as they take off. Douxie hates spaceships almost as much as he hates planes, he’s decided.

They’re silent until they’re far enough away that they’re sure they won’t be followed and the adrenaline starts to wear down. Douxie unroots himself now that the flight is stabilised, but he wavers where he stands and Toby has to leap up to steady him.

“Well,” says Toby uneasily, “that could have gone worse.”

“Could have gone better too,” grumbles Steve.

“We got Krel,” Douxie says. “That’s what matters.”

Steve goes through the motions Douxie now recognises as turning on autopilot before standing and gesturing to them. “Alright, come on, back to the sleeping quarters. We need to patch up. Krel, I don’t suppose you have any of the healers’ paper packed here?”

“Nope,” says Krel. He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even pack healers’ paper.”

“We left in a hurry,” mumbles Douxie. Yeah, he _knows_ by now he made a series of poorly-thought-out and ill-fated decisions. He doesn’t need the lecture again before they get to Akiridion-5, where he’ll get the lecture from Uncle Mort and Archie.

They follow Steve to the sleeping quarters. The second the door is open Junie tackles him, licking his face excitedly and sniffing at his injuries. He laughs.

“Hey, girl, hey.” He ruffles the fur on her head. “Yes, yes, we’re back, it’s good to see you too.”

“That’s a dog,” says Krel. “When did Steve get a dog?”

“More like when did Junie – the dog, by the way – get a Steve,” says Toby. He also pats Junie’s head, and Douxie can’t help but do that same. He still doesn’t know how she got on the ship, but Steve adores her and she really is well-behaved.

“It’s a long story,” Douxie says. He rubs the back of his pounding head and winces when his hand comes back sticky with blood. Okay, definitely concussed. He hates concussions. Krel sits on one of the beds and Douxie sits next to him. Toby sits across from them, crossing his arms and leaning his head back.

“Well,” he says, “no one’s dead and Krel’s with us so I guess it is a successful rescue mission.”

“For now,” mumbles Krel.

“For now,” agrees Toby. “Yeah, no, with Douxie’s vision we can’t take anything for granted.”

Krel’s head snaps to him in alarm. “Vision? You had a vision?”

“Yeah, it – don’t worry too much about it, okay?” says Douxie. “I don’t want to explain too many times, wait till we’re back with Uncle Mort.”

Uncle Mort, who can interpret it better and reassure him that it was all symbolic. That seeing Krel’s core didn’t mean Krel would be injured that badly. That everything would be okay in the end. That’s probably too much to hope for.

“Speaking of, what on Earth led you to believe you shouldn’t tell Uncle Mort I was kidnapped?” Krel demands as Steve starts looking over Toby’s injuries.

“I thought he’d overreact,” mumbles Douxie.

“Over – this was entirely an overreacting situation.”

“I get it, I get it!” He shakes his head, then glances over Krel again, worried. He gently ghosts his fingers over the bruising on his neck. “What did he _do_ to you?”

“I’m okay, Douxie, really,” says Krel. “Tired and weak, but I’ll live.”

“You better,” says Steve. “We put in a lot of work to save you.”

Krel rolls his eyes. “Love you too, Steve.”

Steve shoots him a smile before gently beginning to heal Toby’s injury. He’s picked up a lot of healing over the years, more than Douxie ever managed. It’s honestly impressive. Krel leans on him, eyelids drooping and evidently unable to support his own weight. Douxie wraps an arm around him, careful of injuries he might not be able to see.

Douxie himself feels drained, which is partly the concussion and sleep deprivation, but also probably the dark magic. He doesn’t like it. But at the same time… it was so easy. It flowed differently than real magic, and Douxie can’t help but want more of that power. It scares him. He thinks he sees why Uncle Mort has forbidden its use.

No more. Dark magic is too dangerous to mess with. From here on out, Douxie won’t touch it.

“Alright, Tobes, I’ve done what I can,” says Steve, zoning Douxie back in.

“What’s the prognosis, doc?” Toby jokes.

“Unfortunately, you’ll live.” Steve laughs and ducks away when Toby squawks in offence and takes a swipe at his head. He turns around and smiles at Krel and Douxie. “Alright, Penn dumbasses, which of you is more hurt?”

“Krel,” Douxie says, just as Krel says, “Douxie.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Helpful. Alright, well, Krel was captured, so he’s up first. Douxie, don’t drop dead on me.”

“No promises.”

Steve grumbles something about stubbornness and Penns which is an incredibly accurate assessment, given that one, Uncle Mort is the most stubborn man Douxie has ever met, and two, Steve is also technically a Penn and just as stubborn as the rest of them. He looks just as worried as Douxie is about the bruises on Krel’s neck and the state of his wrist, and mumbles something about electrical burns on both wrists that Douxie himself didn’t catch.

“Awesome magic, by the way, Doux,” says Toby. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

Douxie laughs uneasily. “Yeah, well… been training. So.”

“Keep it up and you’ll be as strong as your dad.” Toby offers him a grin. That’d be a pretty high compliment if, you know, that had been actual magic and not the one thing Uncle Mort has told him to avoid at all costs. He smiles weakly back. It’s nice his friends have faith in him. It’s too bad it feels misplaced.

“I’m glad we’re going to Akiridion-5,” mumbles Steve. “Your aura’s off, and aura usually translates pretty directly to core output. Not a good sign.”

“Isavox had him in aura-suppressing shackles,” says Douxie. “When I took them off it blasted me across the room.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Okay, that’s not good.”

“Why would that guy – Ultra-whatever – have him kidnapped and his powers cut off if he just wants to be friends?” asks Toby.

“He wouldn’t,” says Krel grimly. “Or, at least, not if he actually thought I’d agree to an alliance. Whatever he’s doing, he thinks I’ll say no.”

“He was exiled, right?” says Douxie. “For some science experiment. Any knowledge on that?”

Krel shakes his head. Steve tuts at him like a disapproving mother and he stills again. “Varvatos might know. Barring that, we can ask Loth Saborian. He knows everything there is to know about Akiridion history.”

“We all agree he’s bad news, right?” says Toby. “I mean – that more peaceful place rhetoric is standard villain 101.”

“I hate that,” grumbles Krel. “Why do the bad guys always act like they mean well and then, like, murder people?”

“Do you mean in movies or in real life? Cause in movies it’s because they’re right but it’s usually capitalism related so–”

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s off-topic,” says Douxie. “Point is, Ultios is bad and shit is going to go down. This rescue was too easy, my vision still stands.”

“Core, explosion, orange,” mumbles Steve. Is that really the best way he has to sum it up? Orange wasn’t even the important part! Krel still looks alarmed, glancing at Douxie and narrowing his eyes.

“ _Core_?”

“Again, I’ll explain when we get there,” says Douxie.

“You give me anxiety,” he mutters. “Steve, almost done?”

“Almost, be patient,” says Steve. “For someone who blows himself up with experiments, like, weekly, you’re awfully impatient with healing.”

“For someone who has to heal me from something, like, weekly, you’re awfully slow at healing,” Krel snarks back.

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “Touché.”

“Anyway, Douxie probably has a concussion,” Krel says. "And he's bleeding."

“Noted.”

“Traitor,” Douxie mutters.

“Don’t pass out on us again,” says Toby. “You’re starting to turn into Krel.”

“I’m offended by that,” mutters Krel. His face lights up. “Hey! I made it through that whole battle and stayed conscious. _Douxie_ is the one that got knocked out!”

“You got knocked out?” Steve demands. “why didn’t you lead with that? None of you ever lead with the important info for healing. It’s always, ‘I’m not really that hurt’ and never ‘I accidentally stabbed myself play-fighting Toby’.”

“One time!” Krel exclaims. “That was _one time_!”

“Alright, I’ve done all I can do for you right now,” says Steve. “I prescribe a nap. Douxie, concussion time.”

“You can’t fix a concussion with a spell,” says Douxie.

“I know that, smartass.” Steve pulls his backpack from under the bed and rummages through it before pulling out a vialled potion. “Drink. I thought this would be for Krel but apparently you’re just as bad.”

Douxie knows better than to argue. He drinks the foul-smelling potion and makes a face at the taste. He also doesn't protest as Steve heals the bleeding wound in his torso, kind of glad he was in the suit and not his sweatshirt. He likes that sweatshirt. Steve continues looking him over for other injuries before grabbing a spare sheet from under the bed and mumbling to himself as he fixes it into a sling.

“We’ll reach Akiridion-5 sometime tomorrow,” says Steve softly. He helps Douxie into the sling. It’s the same arm that got stabbed years ago in the shop fire. Douxie hopes that’s not a sign. “For now, everyone needs to get some rest. We’ll take turns on lookout. Tobes and I can go first.”

Douxie is too tired to argue. He nods and stands, stretching. Toby moves out of the way so Douxie can take his bed and Krel can have Douxie’s – they won’t be waking Krel for lookout, not in the state he’s in, and he doesn’t need to be climbing to top bunk right now. Douxie’s not allowed top bunk period.

“We’ll wake you if there’s trouble,” says Toby.

“And I’ll text you if there’s any here,” says Douxie. He prays he doesn’t have another vision. The first was bad enough. He fears more clarity will only mean bad news. “See you soon.”

Toby and Steve nod and wave before leaving, Junie trailing after them with her tail wagging. Douxie lays down on the bed and closes his eyes.

“I miss normalcy,” he says.

“Yeah,” Krel sighs. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krel's finally back!! And Douxie's making some more bad decisions, what else is new? I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! It was a fun one to write :D
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	8. A Grim History

Krel knew better than to expect to be woken for a turn on lookout, but he’s still a teensy bit annoyed when he wakes up and Toby’s asleep on the other bunk and not Douxie. He needed the sleep, though, so he yawns as quietly as possible and slides out of bed, tiptoeing out of the room so he doesn’t wake his friend before making his way to the cockpit.

Steve is sitting at the pilot seat on his phone. Douxie is pacing like Uncle Mort does when he’s stressed. Uncle Mort is probably the reason he’s pacing. He’s got to be pissed Douxie and the others ran off without telling him, whether he knows Krel was kidnapped or not. If he’s on Akiridion-5, then he probably knows Krel was kidnapped. At least Krel can’t get in trouble for this, which is a nice change of pace considering he’s usually one of the ones getting in trouble for something like this.

Douxie spots him as he walks in. “Krel! Feeling a bit better?”

“A bit,” Krel says. His limbs are still shaky and weak like that one day during finals week where he forgot to eat, but he feels less like he’ll be blown over by a sudden breeze.

“We’ll be reaching Akiridion-5 soon,” says Steve. “I’ve texted Aja to be expecting us.”

“How mad is she?” Krel asks warily.

Steve glances up from his phone. “At you? For once, not at all. She’s not even mad at me ‘cause I told her right away”

“Glad we learned _that_ lesson,” Krel mutters. He points accusingly at Douxie. “Why the _hell_ didn’t you tell Mort?”

“Yes, I get it, I messed up, thank you,” says Douxie, crossing his arms. “I thought we could handle it. And we did!”

“Handled is a strong word for it,” says Steve. “We almost died more than once.”

“You _what_!?”

“And Uncle Mort will not be hearing about that.” Douxie claps his hands together and gives them a strained smile. “I’m in enough trouble as is.”

“How did you convince Costas to let you borrow the ship?” Krel asks, running a hand along the familiar dashboard. He’s glad to see Steve really did pick up on the flying lessons. He’s better at it than a lot of Krel’s co-workers at Area 49b. Maybe he can convince Steve to help him teach them before they break another prototype.

Douxie winces. “ _Let_ is a strong word.”

“ _Douxie_.”

“Listen, we both know you’re the smart one,” Douxie says.

“We stole the ship,” Steve offers.

“It’s not stealing! It’s borrowing!”

“You stole _government property_!?”

“Borrowed! Borrowed government property! Government property you built!”

“That’s still government property, Douxie!”

“Yeah, it was a bad idea, we know,” says Steve. “Douxie really wanted to do this, though.”

Douxie doesn’t meet his eyes. Oh. He’s doing his whole thing again. Krel walks over to put a hand on his shoulder and stop his pacing. “Hey. It wasn’t your fault I got taken.”

“I should have paid better attention,” says Douxie.

“We were all drugged,” Krel points out. “It wasn’t your fault, or anyone’s fault, but Ultios and Isavox.”

“Logically I know that.” Douxie rubs his forehead and sighs. “At least we have you back. I won’t let him take you again.”

That’s not something Douxie can guarantee no matter how hard he tries, but Krel offers him a smile anyway. He hopes he’s not captured again. Ultios gives him the creeps, the kind of slimy fake friendly he’s seen from villains in movies. He has it out for Krel’s dead parents, which is never a good sign for Krel’s own safety. It’s not uncommon knowledge that Krel is a Celestial – news has a tendency to travel, especially when the heir to the throne of Akiridion-5 does something crazy like integrate with Gaylen’s core. Still, the fact that Ultios had wanted him seemingly _because_ he’s a Celestial leaves him uneasy.

He wanders over to the window and leans against the wall as he watches his childhood home grow closer and closer. It’s been a long time since he’s visited by ship. They usually just wormhole over. It’s faster and easier and doesn’t involve anything plane-like for Douxie’s sake. Akiridion-5 is as beautiful as he remembers it being from space, it and its many satellites hanging before a familiar constellation backdrop. Krel can pick out the Martyr in the sky. It sends a pang to his core like it always does, so he turns his eyes away.

The door to the cockpit slides open and Toby walks in with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. Junie trots in after him, tail wagging as she bounds up to Steve. Toby smiles to Krel and sits in one of the seats of the cockpit.

“Man, school is gonna be so boring now,” he says.

Krel grins at him. “Sucks to be you.”

“I did not miss this,” grumbles Steve. “Normal life was fun while it lasted. Alright, sit down, I’m gonna get us clearance to land.”

“Not enough seats,” Douxie says. Krel rolls his eyes and walks up to the dashboard. A few commands later, a third passenger seat rises from the floor between the first two. “I stand corrected.”

Krel and Douxie also sit and strap in at Steve’s glare. This ship should be stable enough to not need seatbelts, unless they’ve messed it up. It’s entirely possible they’ve messed it up, knowing them. Almost died suggested they did something to mess it up – Krel can easily guess they messed up the wormhole drive, since otherwise they would have just opened a wormhole straight to Akiridion-5 instead of flying all this way. Krel’s a bit annoyed by that. He worked hard on this ship. But also they saved his life, so he can’t be _too_ annoyed.

Steve opens transmissions to Akiridion-5. A bored-looking Akiridion answers, then sees Steve and then Krel waving in the back and straightens up. He doesn’t know why. It’s been a long time since he’s been anything other than the queen’s brother who lives on another planet, and he likes it that way. Aja is the ruler, and it was always meant to be that way.

“Permission to dock in the palace bays?” Steve asks.

“Permission granted, Prince-Consort,” says the Akiridion. He glances down for a second then nods. “Docking bay nine is open and ready for your ship.”

“Thank you,” says Steve.

“Shall I inform her majesty of your arrival?”

“Yes, if you will.” Steve gives him a smile. “Have a nice rest of your delson.”

“Thank you, your highness, you too.”

The call ends. Steve’s expression finally reflects his distaste for the term prince-consort and all the niceties that go with it. “Yep, never gonna get used to that.”

“You know, one day you’ll be _king_ -consort instead of prince-consort,” Krel points out cheekily.

“Not thinking about that right now! Still gotta finish college!”

Krel laughs. It’s always amusing to see Steve interacting with Akiridions. They’ve warmed up to him a lot in the past several years, although there’s still some backlash about Aja dating a human she clearly intends to stay with. Most people remember Steve from the fight with Morando, so they all grudgingly respect and accept him, even if they don’t like the break in tradition.

Steve brings them in to land with Krel helpfully pointing out exactly where docking bay nine is. He mentally prepares himself. He probably won’t get yelled at, but he’s going to have both Aja and Uncle Mort panicking over him, so that will be fun. As the docking doors close behind them, he and the others stand. Krel messes absently with the makeshift brace for his wrist.

“Can I take the sling off?” Douxie asks.

“No,” says Steve.

“Uncle Mort will freak out if he sees me in a sling.”

“Keep the sling on.”

Douxie gives him a dramatic sigh and Krel hides a laugh. The group of them make their way to the exit of the ship, Junie trotting happily after them. She’s a very cheerful dog, tail wagging every time Steve enters the room or pats her head or talks. Okay, maybe she just really likes Steve.

Aja is there waiting for them as they leave, along with Uncle Mort and Alex. Eli is there too, to Krel’s surprise – how long were they gone? Archie is perched on Alex’s shoulders. Douxie shrinks at his familiar’s glare. It serves him right. This was really dumb of him. Uncle Mort rushes forward before even Aja does, looking over all of them and making concerned parent noises at the injuries he can see.

“Thank Seklos you’re all okay,” says Aja. She rushes over to hug Krel, then Steve. She also kisses Steve, and Krel makes an obligatory annoyed groan.

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?” Mort demands. Steve and Toby exchange looks and point to Douxie, who’s trying to make himself as small as possible. “Stealing a spaceship? I thought you knew better! I _know_ I taught you better.”

“In my defence, we were kind of panicking over Krel going missing,” Douxie offers.

Mort rubs his forehead in frustration. “You haven’t answered _any_ of my calls, you haven’t texted me back, the only reason I knew you weren’t _dead_ is through Alex and Aja!”

“We tried to tell him,” says Toby.

“Just – just _what the hell_?” It’s not a good sign that Uncle Mort is already this stressed and they haven’t even mentioned the Ultios stuff or Douxie’s vision. Granted, of all of Douxie’s terrible ideas, stealing a spaceship and running away to save him without telling Mort definitely takes the cake.

“We have bigger problems than my bad decision making,” says Douxie. “So, you know Krel was kidnapped, but, uh, it gets worse.”

Mort sighs. “Of course it does. Well, let’s get you four to a doctor first. Especially you, Krel, you look dead on your feet.”

“Thanks,” Krel says flatly.

Alex walks over to link hands with Douxie, murmuring to him as Archie climbs onto Douxie’s shoulders and bats his face scoldingly with a paw. Krel hides his laughter. The walk to the med-wing is fairly quiet, Aja and Steve mumbling to each other, Archie more loudly scolding Douxie and also Krel. Krel doesn’t think he deserves to be scolded, but try telling that to a cat.

“When did you get here?” he asks Eli.

“Same time Mort and Alex did,” he says. “I told my moms it was a tricky interplanetary situation and they’d need the ambassador there, so here I am.”

Krel laughs. “You just wanted out of a road-trip.”

“Maybe,” Eli admits.

They reach the familiar med-bay. Krel patiently lets the Akiridion doctors attach the core-reader vest to his torso. The shackles have left him weak and shaken. His core output alone is enough to tell him why – it’s lower than it should be and slightly more erratic. Mort frowns as he watches the graph.

“That’s not right,” he mumbles. He’s insisted Krel get a check-up here twice a year every year, so he knows as well as Krel does what the graph _should_ look like. “Your core output shouldn’t be this low.”

“They had him in some sort of aura-suppressing shackles,” says Douxie softly. He’s getting looked over by another doctor, for his shoulder and head and the cut on his torso. “I took them off him and – boom!”

“Aura-suppression… no wonder,” Mort says. He turns to Douxie with the same frustrated look he always gets when Douxie does something stupid. “Why did you take them off!? Of course there was an explosion of energy, Krel’s a Celestial!”

“Douxie didn’t give me a chance to warn him,” says Krel. It had scared him when the energy had died down and Douxie was unconscious against the wall, and even more when he didn’t wake up right away. It’s also a sobering reminder of just how much power he has that he’s never tapped into, that he never wants to tap into. Krel doesn’t need to be some sort of all-powerful god. He just needs to be Krel.

“Okay, so, real talk, we need to discuss who kidnapped Krel and why,” says Toby from where he’s being doted on by his grandmother. Varvatos is standing next to her, aloof, arms crossed. It’s still a little weird that he and Nana Domzalski are a thing. Krel would love to say that he’s taken well to be Toby’s grandfather. That would be a lie.

“And my vision,” Douxie says.

“You had a vision?” Mort asks in alarm. Douxie nods, expression grim. “Wonderful, just what we need – okay, one thing at a time. Kidnapper first.”

“Does the name Ultios Galeth mean anything to you?” Krel asks Varvatos. By the way his eyes widen, it must. “He’s the one that had me kidnapped. He… told us some interesting things.”

“Varvatos expects that he did,” he says gravely.

Krel takes a deep breath. A part of him doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to hear more mistakes his parents made that he’s paying for in their stead, but he has to ask. “What happened to Satellite-7X?”

Varvatos nods like he was expecting this and lets out a deep sigh. Aja’s brow furrows worriedly. Like him, she knows the story – a tragic accident with few survivors, nothing more and nothing less. By Varvatos’s reaction, Krel fears the truth is more in line with Ultios’s tale than the history books.

“Satellite-7X was primarily a research outpost,” says Varvatos. “Weapons manufacturing, tools for our military. It had been operational for hundreds of keltons before it was destroyed. The head scientists at the time of its destruction were Val Morando and Ultios Galeth.”

“Morando,” repeats Aja faintly. “Was Krel captured for revenge?”

“No. Varvatos doesn’t think so.” He lets out another deep sigh, brow furrowing. “Galeth and Morando were working on a superweapon the likes of which the universe has never seen. Your parents were already wary of it, but at the advisors’ urging they allowed it to continue, until a problem arose – they could not find a power source that worked how they wanted it to. Looking back, knowing what Varvatos knows now, it seems they discovered they needed a different _type_ of energy to make it work.”

“Magic?” guesses Douxie wryly.

“The energy your kind calls aura,” says Varvatos. Douxie’s eyes widen. Krel opens his mouth as if to speak, but he isn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know aura could be used as an energy source like that. It’s a scary thought. “For some reason, they decided to try using the core energy of an Akiridion – and their weapon powered up. It still wasn’t enough to make it viable, and when your parents found out, they were furious. They ordered the project shut down immediately. Galeth and Morando refused. So, the king and queen ordered the project and all of its plans destroyed.”

“And with it, Satellite-7X,” Krel completes numbly. Varvatos nods. Krel feels sick to his stomach. “There were innocent people there! There were _children_!”

“Your parents made the decision they felt benefitted the most people,” Varvatos said. “They did not like it either, but sacrifices had to be made.”

“That kind of sacrifice is unacceptable!” Krel snaps. Varvatos inclines his head and Krel runs his hands down his face. Why do his parents’ actions and policies constantly come back to bite him? Why couldn’t they have just, he doesn’t know, _not_ committed various war crimes and unethical decisions? There had to have been other options. A sacrifice isn’t always the answer.

“That must be why he’s after Krel, then,” says Steve grimly. “He’s rebuilding the weapon and he needs a power source.”

“And you won’t find a more powerful power source than a Celestial.” Mort pulls his hair back and tilts his head towards the ceiling, eyes closed and brow low over them. “Wonderful. Someone wants to power a superweapon with one of my kids. Just what we needed to spice things up.”

“He talked about making the universe a more peaceful place,” says Toby. “You know, standard evil dude. Any ideas what he’s up to?”

“He has a superweapon that, with the right power source, could destroy _stars_ ,” says Varvatos.

Steve grimaces. “Universe is a lot more peaceful when everyone who would cause trouble is threatened with annihilation.”

“Great, so we’ve got an actual Death Star, fantastic,” mutters Toby.

“And I don’t think there will be a conveniently placed weak point for us to use,” says Krel. “Well, we don’t have a choice. We need to find this weapon and destroy it before he can use it. There are other powerful beings out there that he could find and use to power it.”

“While I agree the weapon must be destroyed,” says Mort, “the ‘we’ isn’t a good idea. Even setting aside my own parental misgivings, if Ultios gets you, then it’s game over.”

“Mort is right,” says Aja. “You need to be heavily guarded at all times.”

“I’ll be guarded,” Krel reasons. “I’ll just be guarded _and_ stopping the bad guy at the same time. It’s not like this is a first.”

Besides, no matter what planet he hides on, he’ll be making that planet a target. If he’s out in space being proactive, then at the very least he’s a _moving_ target. He knows from experience those are far more difficult to hit. He can see Uncle Mort considering it too.

“If I agree to this,” he says carefully, “will you all promise not to be stupid about it?”

“Excuse you, I am a genius,” says Krel. Mort gives him an unimpressed look. “Yes, yes, yes, I promise not to be stupid.”

“Why do you always want to run towards danger?” Steve laments. “Why can’t we just hide in a bunker for a year or something safe?”

“ _Steve_ ,” says Krel.

“Yes, alright, we’re in, we’re in,” says Steve.

“I’m going with you this time,” says Mort. “And I want at least one other responsible adult.”

“Hey!” Douxie exclaims. “ _We’re_ adults!”

“ _You_ stole a spaceship,” Mort deadpans. “I think that disqualifies you.”

“Unfortunately, I will have to stay on Akiridion-5.” Aja smiles wryly. “There’s always something to do, and Akiridion-5 needs a ruler. However, Varvatos can go with you to protect you.”

“He can?” Varvatos asks in surprise. Aja glares at him and he coughs awkwardly. “That is correct, he can accompany you on your quest!”

“We’ll leave tomorrow if you’re all well enough,” decides Mort. “For now, we need to rest and come up with a plan.”

“Well, last time we fought him he totally kicked all of our asses,” says Toby, “but this time we’ll have Mort and Varvatos on our side! So things have to be better!”

Mort shakes his head. “You can’t rely on that.”

Varvatos crosses his arms again. “Varvatos suggests we eliminate the threat with excessive force!”

“We don’t have excessive force, there’s six of us,” says Steve.

“You have Varvatos Vex!”

“Yeah,” Krel says, “that’s not gonna work.”

He moves his arms so the doctors can take the vest off and focus on his actual injuries. They’ve learned a lot about how to treat injuries on biological and semi-biological life forms like himself and his friends. By the way Mort’s eyes glow lightly golden as he glances over all of them, he’s double-checking the Akiridion doctors anyway.

“Definitely fractured,” mumbles the doctor holding his arm. Fractured? That’s the last thing Krel needs. He lets them remove the makeshift cast and carefully wrap and replace it with an Akiridion one. Douxie is given a proper sling as well. He grumbles about it under his breath the whole time.

“So what exactly happened when you found Krel?” asks Aja.

“We were trying to be stealthy so we split up,” says Toby. “I guess Douxie found Krel, but Steve ran into Ultios and his men and immediately signalled for help. I’m guessing you were out, Doux?”

“Must have been,” says Douxie. His brow furrows. “How long was I out?”

“A few minutes,” says Krel. “Five, maybe? Hard to tell.”

“Right, well, I ran over to help Steve, but of course we were getting our asses handed to us, like I said.” Toby gestures helpfully at his bandaged upper arm. “Then we finally reached Douxie and he and Krel joined us, Ultios gave his little spiel, and then we started getting our asses handed to us again.”

“Douxie saved the day, for sure,” says Steve. “Did some super crazy magic to trap Ultios and his men and we got the hell out of there.”

Uncle Mort’s eyes narrow at super crazy magic, probably rightfully so knowing Douxie and his love of magical experimentation, but he doesn’t bring it up and instead smiles. “Well, I’m glad you’re all okay. I wish you’d talked to me first, but good work on rescuing Krel.”

Douxie visibly brightens at the praise. Steve pats him on the back and Krel gives him a nod. Bad idea or not, Douxie and the others did manage to save him _and_ none of them died. It’s a pretty solid win.

“As soon as we’re done here we can talk about this vision you mentioned,” says Mort. “How bad are we talking?”

“Bad,” says Douxie softly.

Mort and Alex exchange concerned looks. Archie glances up from where he’s been pretending to sleep on Douxie’s lap. “That you’re admitting it definitely isn’t a good sign.”

“Yeah, it’s not good,” says Toby.

Krel himself still doesn’t know more about it than “core, explosion, orange”, none of which sounds good. Whose core? What explosion? And orange is incredibly vague. Douxie’s only had a few visions since they’ve lived together, including the time he somehow ended up predicting what Krel got him for Christmas which made Krel very salty. But if he’s this shaken, it has to be something really bad.

Krel just hopes that whatever it is, it doesn’t come true.

It’s a little bit before the doctors and Mort are content enough with their treatment to let them go, and even then Krel’s core readings still haven’t levelled back out. He didn’t even know something like those shackles could even exist. He hasn’t felt that powerless since before he integrated with Gaylen’s core, and even then the buzzing of his core in his chest was more powerful than it was with the shackles on.

They leave the med-bay for somewhere more comfortable, settling in to a common room in the family wing of the palace. Douxie’s expression is worried and conflicted. Archie purrs comfortingly as he once again settles on Douxie’s legs, tail swishing back and forth. Krel sits on one side of him and Alex on the other. Alex holds Douxie’s hand, looking just as worried as his fiancé.

“Before anyone freaks out, we’re hoping it’s just a lot of symbolism,” says Toby. “But – Doux? Take it away.”

Douxie presses his lips into a thin line, then sighs. “I saw Krel’s core.”

Aja sucks in a sharp breath. Mort’s anxious, fidgeting hands still. Oh. That’s not what Krel expected to hear. That answers whose core, but that’s definitely not a good answer. Krel has no interest in being sent back to his core. Symbolism can’t be much better though. Krel sucks at symbolism. He took the required English courses in college and he hated all of them.

“Are you sure?” Mort asks.

“Fairly,” says Douxie. “I guess it could have been Gaylen’s core too. It was a flash. There was also some big explosion. Or a supernova? Which is honestly a lot scarier knowing about Ultios’s weapon. And then I also saw all of us, but there was like an orange tint over the whole vision? So I don’t know if that was colour symbolism or something.”

Mort crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know for sure about any colour symbolism. I suppose the core and explosion could be metaphorical. I hope they are.”

“But you’re not convinced.” Douxie pets Archie’s head with a deep frown. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Visions of the future don’t always come to fruition,” says Uncle Mort. “We’ll just be extra careful in light of this to ensure nothing bad happens, to Krel or to anyone. And if it is symbolism, there’s a solid chance we won’t know what it means until after the fact.”

“I really don’t like this,” says Aja. “I wish you would stay here where we can protect you.”

“Hiding away from our problems won’t solve them,” says Krel. “And quite frankly, I don’t trust anyone else to solve this. We’ve saved the world plenty of times. Now we just need to save the universe.”

“Ah, yes, the obvious level two,” mutters Toby.

“We need a plan,” says Mort. “We can’t just go willy-nilly into space and hope for the best. We have to figure out how to find Ultios _and_ how to stop him, without putting ourselves in too much danger.”

“He’s Akiridion, so his core should be trackable,” says Krel. “I doubt he’d use those shackles on himself.”

“It’s possible to mask an Akiridion core – I’ve done it for you before – but it’s also difficult and needs magic,” Mort says. “Do we have specific readings of his core available?”

“We can check,” says Aja.

“We’ll figure something out.” Steve wraps an arm around her and kisses her forehead. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to Krel.”

“To you either, my blond oaf,” she murmurs. Krel and Toby exchange exasperated looks. Really? Do they have to be sappy right now? They’re busy making a plan! It’s very typical of the Staja.

“We’ll brainstorm overnight,” says Mort. “I do want to leave soon. The very first places Galeth will look for Krel are here and Earth, and while it’d be nice if we could just lure him in and capture him, I worry too much about that backfiring.”

“We’ll figure this out,” says Toby.

Douxie’s eyes reflect Krel’s own anxiety, and he shakes his head. “I hope you’re right.”

“At least right now everyone is safe,” says Alex, always the calming voice of reason. “Krel’s been rescued and from now on we’ll stick together.”

“Exactly,” says Mort.

“Are you going back to Earth?” Douxie asks Alex, who looks quite frankly offended. “What? I mean, you probably have things to do there and I didn’t think you were going to stay here.”

“I’m going with you,” says Alex.

“Absolutely not,” says Douxie. “You’re mundane.”

“So is Toby.”

“Toby’s a Trollhunter.”

“You think I can’t handle it?”

“No – I – that’s not it at all.”

Krel averts his eyes from the argument. Alex and Douxie don’t fight very often, and when they do it’s usually Douxie doing something stupid and Alex worrying about him and Douxie getting hurt because he takes it as a lack of faith in him, so this is a bit of a flipped script.

“If that’s not it, then what is it?” Alex crosses his arms. Krel and Steve make that awkward eye contact that only happens when two other friends are arguing and they do _not_ want to get involved.

“My entire family is going to be in danger,” Douxie says softly. “I need at least _you_ safe. Please. Earth, here, I don’t care, but stay somewhere where I know I don’t have to worry about you on top of everyone else.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Okay. Fair enough. I’ll stay here. But if you need me, don’t just discount me because I’m mundane!”

“I know, I know, you can kick my ass in hand-to-hand any day,” says Douxie. He smiles and leans in for a kiss, and Krel makes an annoyed noise. Why do all the couples have to be so sappy all the time? He glances at Uncle Mort who winks at him and jokingly makes a grossed-out face. Krel appreciates the support from his fellow ace.

“Do we need more back-up?” asks Toby. “I could call Jim and Claire. Hell, we could get our other friends in on it too, Darci, Mary, Logan, Cass, Jordan. Big team!”

“It’ll be easier if it’s just us,” says Krel. A part of him doesn’t even like the ones here getting involved. He’s terrified of losing one of them. He has no idea what Ultios will do to get his hands on him – what’s stopping him from ambushing them, killing Krel’s family, and taking him? He mentally shakes this thought off. “Besides, we’ll need a smaller ship if we want to stay any amount under the radar. That many people will need a big ship.”

“Krel’s right,” says Uncle Mort. “The six of us and Archie and Junie will be more than enough for now. But keep them updated, just in case.”

“I will keep Akiridion-5 prepared as well,” says Aja. “No keeping me out of the loop this time! I expect updates!”

“Yes, yes, yes, we’ll give you updates,” says Krel. “You know, last time didn’t even involve you. I was trying to lessen your work load by not telling you.”

“Krel,” Aja says warningly.

“I’m just saying.” Krel shrugs and grins cheekily at her. She throws something at him and he ducks without bothering to try to figure out what it is. “See! My life is in more danger with you throwing things! Ay yi yi, _siblings_.”

“ _Ay yi yi_ ,” Aja grumbles to mimic him, rolling her eyes but smiling good-naturedly anyway. He misses Aja, even if he doesn’t really miss Akiridion-5 and he wouldn’t trade his life on Earth for the world. He wishes they could visit each other more often, but between running a planet for Aja and schooling for Krel, their schedules have limited them to pretty much holidays, if that, since Akiridion holidays are something Aja usually has to be around for.

“Alright,” says Uncle Mort. “It’s getting late, especially for those of us from Earth. I suggest we get some rest so we can leave in the morning, barring any unforeseen developments.”

He glances at Douxie as he says this. Douxie shrinks against Alex, brow furrowing and lips twisting into a deep frown. Krel already misses the days when the only visions they were remotely worried about were images of a frightening past. Krel hopes he doesn’t have anymore. The future is frightening enough as it is. He just hopes they can all make it through whatever this is without it turning into nightmares for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you know some of the history!! Also Mort's back and I'm incredibly happy about that because I adore Mort, so I hope y'all like him too. This was fun, to make up some history (and give Morando more of a reason to have been banished). I hope you guys liked that too!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!!!! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the monster that is Legacies!!! I'll be posting every Saturday until it's done, barring some extreme circumstance! I can't wait to see what you all think! Love you all!


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